


Preaching to the Converted

by StaticVagrant



Series: Hope and Mercy [1]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Knifeplay, Romance, Sexual Assault, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-04-25 00:36:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 80,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14367135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaticVagrant/pseuds/StaticVagrant
Summary: What if the Deputy never liberated Seed Ranch? What if she had failed her mission instead?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever published fic!
> 
> I don't own Far Cry, the characters or the music used in it. I just had a great time playing the game and got an idea for a story. :)
> 
> 2019 update: Having grown a lot over the past year, I've gone back over this story and have re-edited it, refining and re-wording some parts that I wasn't completely happy with. There are no changes to the plot or to the characters, just the way things are described. I'll include a note in each chapter with the date the latest version has been posted. Thank you for reading, and enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2019 edit posted 20/02/19.

The deputy snuck into the property from the back, slinking quietly past the guards on their patrols. After climbing a ladder to the roof of the plane hangar, she used a zip-line across to the roof of the main house and dropped silently onto the balcony below, slipping into the house via an unlocked door. _This is too easy,_ she thought as she surveyed the landing. Seed Ranch. John Seed's home. She had been instructed to liberate this outpost and take it for the Resistance by Dutch, the man who found her after she and her team had tried to arrest Joseph Seed. It was a mission she had completed successfully before for other outposts and she was confident she could do it again.

The Ranch was heavily guarded outside, but from what the deputy could tell, there was no one in the house. It was the perfect opportunity to snatch the property from the clutches of the Cult, to disable the alarms and take out as many Peggies as silently as she could. Once the location was secured, the Resistance would take over and convert it into another safe haven for the people of Hope County to use to take refuge from the Project at Eden's Gate. The deputy could envision the massive house teeming with happy residents, drinking beer while they watched the golden sunset over the grand estate.

Standing on the internal balcony, she surveyed the large room beneath her. Taxidermized animals, cult paraphernalia, so many books… John Seed obviously liked to read. In the large room below, she spied a long table with a telephone, it's flashing voicemail light catching her attention in the dimly lit room. Curiosity getting the better of her, she snuck silently down the stairs and pressed play.

_"After all the atonements, all the confessions, and all that you have done for me and Eden's Gate, it's not enough, is it John?"_

Joseph seed. _The Father_. His voice sent a shiver of discomfort down her spine and her stomach seemed to twist uncomfortably as his soft words reached her ears.

_"...you need to open up your heart. You need to see that there is more love all around you."_

The deputy scoffed quietly to herself. Love? She couldn't imagine John Seed, the man who tried to drown her and took her colleague captive, as being capable of _love_. The same man who tore open her shirt and was prepared to tattoo "WRATH" across her chest while Deputy Hudson cried uncontrollably behind him - could he be capable of love. _No. He’s only capable of loving himself,_ she thought bitterly, rolling her eyes. He who was always so well-groomed and impeccably dressed, luring unsuspecting victims into the lair he built with his brothers.

_"...will convince you to do wicked things."_

_Because he hasn't done enough damage,_ she thought, but the next words from the tiny speaker made her pause.

_"I love you, brother. I love you."_

The deputy sighed and looked up, studying the room before her carefully. _Thud._ Too late, she heard heavy boots close behind her. One unseen hand grabbed her around the waist, while another held a musky smelling cloth over her mouth and nose. Her body felt heavy and she began to slump back against the hard torso of her assailant, their sharp belt buckle digging into her hip. The last thing she remembered was warm breath against her ear, and a single, silky word:

"Gotcha."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the positive comments! I've had to wait for my invitation to the site so I should hopefully be able to upload fairly quickly, although this is a work in progress! :)
> 
> 2019 edit posted 20/02/19.

It was cold. Wherever she was, it was cold, and she was uncomfortable. The deputy tried to lift her head but it felt heavy in her grogginess and she grimaced, shaky hands rising slowly rest on her cheeks. Opening her eyes was a struggle as her body fought to shake the drug that had rendered her unconscious.

"Deputy."

That single slowly enunciated word startled her awake and she sat up quickly, head spinning. Each perfectly pronounced syllable sent an icy dagger into her heart. She forced herself to focus and found herself staring at a pair of clean, black boots that looked to be attached to knees instead of legs. Fingers tangled in her hair, forcing her head back violently to look at her captor. He was crouched before her, a pleasant smile on his lips that didn't quite reach his piercing blue eyes - John Seed himself.

"Good morning, Deputy!" he said brightly. The sound penetrated the deputy’s ears, still sensitive from the effects of the drug, and she flinched. "Did you have a nice nap? I almost thought you weren't going to wake up - you've been asleep for a whole day!"

John chuckled then, lowering himself to his knees before her. His fingers relaxed their grip in her hair slightly, and he brought his other hand to rest under her chin, turning her face from one side to the other, reaching his thumb out to stroke her lower lip. Feeling her anger building, the deputy went to bite the digit but missed. John laughed heartily before slapping her back-handed across the face and sat back on his heels, watching her intently. She was panting heavily, blinded momentarily by the blow to her left cheek and still sluggish from the drugs.

The deputy turned her head back towards him slowly, raising her eyes to meet his. She said nothing, yet the anger she felt radiated from her in waves. This seemed to please John and he spread his arms wide, grinning.

" _There's_ that wrath, Deputy. There's your sin,” he smirked. "Not that you can do much from in here-" He glanced around. "No one knows where you are. And you're not really in a position to be going anywhere."

He groaned softly as he stood, before he turned and walked over to a bench on the opposite side of the room. The deputy took a moment to study her new surroundings while John's back was turned. She was in some sort of cell with concrete walls, a concrete floor, and no windows. There was only one door into the large square room. Two metal chairs stood in the far corner, and between them sat a single bucket. Her wrists and ankles were shackled to chains attached to a point in the wall above her, the wide metal bands clipped snugly around her limbs. Looking down, she was relieved to find she was still wearing her own clothes. _Thank God._

John returned with a plastic cup, holding it out for her to take. "Drink." The deputy eyed the cup wearily. "It's only water, Deputy,” he sighed exasperatedly. "I can't have you dying of thirst - we haven't had any fun yet."

She pursed her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of how parched she was, and begrudgingly reached a shaky hand out for the cup. John let it go, but her hand trembled violently and she started to spill the water onto herself. He rolled his eyes and helped her, wrapping his warm fingers around her hand to help steady the cup.

"So, _Dep_ ," he began, placing the cup to the side once it was empty. "Shall we begin?"

"Begin what?" she rasped, eyeing him wearily.

"Your confession!" John replied gleefully. "But first, let's get you more comfortable." He walked over to the corner of the room and dragged the two chairs over, the screeching of metal on concrete echoing around the cell. The deputy put her hands over her ears, the sound reverberating through her like nails on a chalkboard. He threw one chair against the wall next to her and she flinched, thinking it was going to hit her. Before she could open her eyes, he'd bent down, grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her up. John stood looking down at her for a moment before throwing her unceremoniously into the chair. He pulled the other chair to face hers and sat opposite her, a small leather bag on his lap which the deputy eyed suspiciously. _What's in there?_

Her question was immediately answered when he opened the bag and produced a tattoo gun. He then reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small flip knife, extending the blade slowly from its sheath. "How can someone so small cause so much trouble?" he asked slowly, twirling the knife between his fingers. "You know I had to punish those guards that let you into my home - I saw you creep past my bedroom window. I'll admit, I was impressed." He leaned forward and put the tip of the blade under her chin. "I was tempted to shoot you right there. But then you played Joseph's message - which was rude, by the way. That was _private_. However, it made me reconsider... for now, at least."

John grabbed the neckline of her t-shirt with his other hand and used the knife to cut the shirt open from neck to sternum. He parted the material and leaned back, watching. _Smirking_. The deputy said nothing, simply stared at him through narrowed eyes. "Imagine my surprise when the woman who had escaped from under my nose turned up in my living room! It was as if God himself gifted you to me. Confess your sins to me, Deputy. Let's start with your name."

She shook her head. "Deputy is fine," she mumbled, throat still dry.

He made a small noise of disapproval and turned on the tattoo gun. The low buzzing was oddly comforting in the gloom of the cell she was in, but she knew that it wouldn't stay comforting for long. He leaned forward, a feral grin twisting his features as he raked his eyes over her exposed flesh.

The deputy sat, unmoving, while John finally branded her with his mark. She couldn't see it, but she knew he was inking _WRATH_ onto her skin, her supposed sin. The needle pierced the flesh under her left collarbone repeatedly, and what initially felt like a scratch became hot and rough, like sunburn. She inhaled deeply while he worked, trying to calm herself. Occasionally she would inhale a spicy, musky scent that was familiar, yet she was unable to place it.

Eventually, the buzzing stopped and John turned his head to whisper in her ear, beard scratching her neck. "Done." His fingers lingered on her collarbone, tracing a faint line beneath her freshly inked skin and leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

It was him. That smell was him, and she'd smelled it on the handkerchief he'd used to drug her. John leaned back in his chair, admiring his handiwork like a proud peacock displaying his plumage, a smile playing about his lips. "Wrath, Deputy. Wrath is your sin. And it is _my_ job to free you from that sin. By any means necessary.”

With that, he stood, kicked his chair back to the corner of the room, and walked to the door, pausing in the doorway to face her. "Make yourself at home, Dep. You can use that bucket in the corner if you need to piss," he said casually. "If you can reach it."

She heard the door lock, and the soft notes of John whistling _We'll Meet Again_ as he sauntered down the hall. The deputy glanced at the bucket across the room, sitting in the same place it was when she awoke, which was well out of her reach. Sighing, she glanced once more around the room. The pitcher of water was on the bench opposite, again out of reach of her chains. The bench was bare besides the pitcher, and there were no cupboards in the cell, not even a cot for her to sleep on. It was just an empty, cold space, and she was alone.

As the reality of her predicament sunk in, she hung her head and sat in silence, listening to the faint screams and cries of John's other prisoners.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the positive comments! The chapters will likely start getting longer from now on.
> 
> There's a language warning for this chapter!
> 
> 2019 edit posted 21/02/19.

The deputy wasn't sure how long she'd been down there, in the bowels of what she assumed to be John’s bunker. John was right - she couldn't reach the bucket, and instead ended up pissing on the floor as far away from the spot she slept as possible. At some point, one of the Peggies came in to clean the floor and bring the bucket closer. It was emptied periodically, she assumed once daily - it had been emptied six times now. Not long after she arrived, the Peggies brought in a rough woolen blanket and a thin mattress for her to sleep on and started to provide two small meals a day.

The deputy hadn't had a change of clothes, nor had she had a shower since her capture. She was covered in grime and blood - John had been back to visit often, trying to force a confession out of her. Still, she had remained silent and that silence had earned her nothing but pain. Unsure of how much time had passed, she sat in the cell taking inventory of her wounds. Reaching up towards her face, she felt around her eye sockets gingerly, a dull ache throbbing around her left eye. She didn’t need a mirror to know it was blackened and cringed inwardly as she remembered how she earned it.

_She staggered back against the wall as John’s fist collided with her face. Black spots blurred her vision and the room appeared tilted, making it hard for her to focus. He must have known she’d be too weak to fight back, not after he’d kept her awake for God-knows how many days._

_“Your NAME, Deputy!” John yelled, towering over her. “Give me your name!”_

_“Fuck you,” she spat, turning to look at him. “You fucking bastard.”_

_He grinned broadly as his fist hurtled towards her again._

Fingers sliding towards her chin, she paused and poked gently at her split lip:

_He’d dragged Hudson into her cell. She looked fairly unharmed compared to when they met in the bunker last time, but still frightened. The poor woman cowered on the floor, clutching her bound hands to her chest and trembling in fear._

_“Good morning, my caged little bird!”’ John said loudly. “I’ve brought you a friend!”_

_“Rook…” Hudson said sadly. “What has he done to you?”_

_The deputy looked at John defiantly. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she responded._

_John laughed, slapping a hand down on Hudson’s shoulder, who flinched, visibly shaken. “She’s such a good sport!” he proclaimed, crouching beside her. “Now, I’m going to need some information from you,_ Rook _. Since you’ve been uncooperative until now, I thought I’d give you a little... motivation.”_

_He produced his pocket knife and stood, holding it close to Hudson’s throat._

_“Don’t you hurt her!” the deputy shouted and tried to charge him, but was held back by her shackles. “You sadistic cunt, I’ll kill you!”_

_In two quick steps, John had crossed the room and slashed at her with the knife, catching her lip. “Speak to me like that again and I’ll take your fucking eye out,” he growled._

Sighing heavily, the deputy wrapped her fingers around her other wrist, massaging gently. It was sprained, another gift from John bestowed during one of his recent visits.

_“FIGHT ME!” John screamed, charging at her again. The deputy dodged to the side, looking at him wearily._

_He'd stormed into her cell that day in a black rage, demanding a duel. He wanted to see her fight. He wanted to experience her wrath himself, almost like he was daring her to punish him for something. Her shackles had been removed and John had stripped off his coat before standing in the middle of the room with his arms raised, daring her to hit him._

_Weakened as she was, the deputy ran towards him, ducked under his arm and dug her elbow into his side. John doubled over and swore at her, then laughed heartily, beckoning her over again._

_“Yes,” he grinned, straightening up. “Show me that anger. Show me your wrath!”_

_She went for him again, this time tackling him around the waist and knocking him to the ground. He looked up at her in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected her to manage to take him down. The deputy hovered over him, her legs on either side of his hips and she held his gaze, finally feeling like she was in control. Her instincts kicked in and she punched him in the jaw before trying to scramble off him in an attempt to reach the door but John was faster. He snapped his head back to look at her and grabbed her thighs, forcing his body to the side and rolling her beneath him. Her wrist was crushed under his hip in the roll and she inhaled sharply, trying not to give away how much pain she was in. John looked down at her pinned beneath him, silent and still. The deputy shifted uncomfortably, trying to free her aching wrist from beneath him. John looked at her hand in surprise, as if he didn't know he had crushed it and shifted his weight, but did not move from her._

_The deputy's anger quickly bubbled to the surface. “Get the fuck off me,” she spat, trying to push against him with her good hand and bucking her hips to try and dislodge him. He only leaned into her further, settling snugly between her thighs, still staring at her like she was a tall glass of water and he was dying of thirst. The deputy swallowed hard, heart coming alive and pounding in her chest as he shifted his hips slightly again, tilting them ever so slightly towards hers._

_She froze. What was he doing? And why did she feel_ comfortable _with him, like this? This couldn’t be right. He just seemed to… fit. He was warm and cool and soft and firm all at once._ I could get lost in those eyes, _she thought. Those eyes were getting closer as he leaned his head towards hers, stopping just short of touching her nose with his._

_Startled, she thrashed against him again, suddenly feeling suffocated. “Get… off… me!” she yelled, and in a final act of desperation craned her neck and tried to bite his nose._

_John pulled back before she could reach him and her teeth smacked together loudly. He laughed somewhat nervously, springing to his feet and walking away from her, looking flustered and shaken._

_“I'll be back to test you again,” he said unevenly, before practically running from the room._

Sighing, the deputy slowly removed her shoes and socks to survey her feet. Nothing broken. No bruises. She pulled her socks back on before she stood and lifted her shirt, tucking it gingerly under her chin. From what she could see of her own torso, it was a wondrous array of old and new bruises, yellow and purple and brown, their colors bleeding together grotesquely. They peppered her hips, her stomach, her ribs. Her sides felt stiff and sore, and the tattoo itched as it healed. She dropped the shirt and stretched her arms above her head, back groaning in protest. She couldn't see it, but she knew it would be bruised and bloody. The day before, John had brought in a leather cat o' nine tails with sharp metal spikes that bit into her flesh through the thin cotton of her shirt as it made contact with her back. She fought to stop the memory creeping to the forefront of her mind.

_The rough way he'd chained her facing the wall. The sound of his laughter when the whip made contact. The way he'd lightly touched the wounds on her back. They way he'd pressed himself against her, pinning her to the wall and threatened to bring Hudson in to see her in her pathetic state._

_“You wouldn't want her to see you like this, would you, Little Dove?” he whispered in her ear, teeth grazing her earlobe. “Vulnerable and alone? Not such a hero now.”_

Stop.

The deputy bit her lip, popped the button on her jeans and unzipped her fly, sliding the jeans to the floor to survey her legs. Covered in bruises, as expected. Nothing else though - yet.

The cell door swung open and she jumped in surprise at the sound, head snapping to look at John as he stepped over the threshold, grinning. "I see you're preparing yourself for me. Oh no, leave them down - it's not a bad view,” he said as she went to pull her jeans back up. She hovered, half bent towards the floor, confused. "I was being sarcastic. Pull your jeans up Dep, for fuck's sake."

He deposited a radio and a first aid kit on the bench, along with another cloth bag. "I saw you checking yourself over through the door - I felt it was rude to interrupt before you were done,” he said, turning to look at her, a mischievous glint in his eye as he turned on the radio. It was tuned to the Project at Eden's Gate station and playing a song they'd written about Joseph. "I brought you some company. Thought you might be sick of the screaming - Lord knows I get sick of it." He flashed a wicked smile. "No, you know that's not true. I don't."

John grabbed the first aid kit, retrieved the spare chair and carried it over to where she was chained to the wall, instead of dragging it like he usually did, and deposited the kit onto the chair she had been using. The deputy zipped up her jeans and stood staring at the now open kit, the handcuffs on top catching her attention. "Wrists, please,” he said smoothly. She eyed him cautiously. What was he planning? "Hell Dep, give me your damn wrists." She held her wrists out to him hesitantly. John then removed the shackles, replacing them with the cuffs, and bent down to remove the shackles from her ankles. The deputy considered kicking him in the face but quashed the thought quickly - she was still cuffed and the door was locked.

John slapped his thigh. "Now sit, Little Dove."

 _On him?_ She stood before him, dumbfounded, unable to process what he'd asked. Clearly impatient, John pulled her down to sit on his lap, facing the wall. He brushed her hair to the side carefully, gently pushing it over her shoulder to gain clear access to her back. "Jesus, Dep, you're filthy,” he remarked, grabbing the bandage scissors from the first aid kit. The deputy opened her mouth to argue with him but thought better of it, fidgeting slightly to find a more comfortable position. John cut her shirt from waist to neck, then pushed it off her shoulders quickly. Startled, the deputy went to stand up to get away from him, but John caught her around the middle and pulled her back down. "Hush. I'm going to clean these wounds," he scolded as he slowly unhooked her ruined bra, leaving it hanging from her shoulders.

Her wretched back was exposed to him now, the torn skin and weeping wounds on display. She watched as he grabbed cleansing wipes from the kit, and flinched as he started wiping one over her wounds. One arm remained around her waist, holding her in place.

"Joseph came to visit last night," he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. "He told me I must “change my ways”. That the way I've been trying to draw your confession from you has been... wrong.” He paused then, throwing the bloody wipe onto the floor and reached for a new one. “So here I am," he continued in a drawl. "Trying to _change my ways_." He picked up a clean cloth and antibacterial spray. "This will sting."

There was a hint of pleasure in his voice as he spoke before spraying the wounds on her back. She cried out in pain for the first time since her captivity and writhed against him, attempting to shield her back from him. The spray on her raw skin felt like acid, making the wounds throb and burn. She flexed her shoulders and lurched forwards, squeezing her thighs together, hips pushing reflexively back. It was all becoming too much; her body was weak, sore and tired. The arm around her waist stiffened to keep her still, pressing down on the tops of her thighs like an amusement park ride, and his hand dug into her hip. He sprayed again, and she clenched her teeth, grunting. John pulled her hips back against his and sprayed once again. The deputy inhaled sharply, John’s fingers on her hip digging into her like a vice. She heard a soft moan from behind her as his hips rose to meet hers-

Before she knew what was happening, he threw her off his lap, sprung to his feet and was leaning over the bench opposite her, breathing hard. She watched him shake his head a few times, before straightening up and turning to face her. His face was unreadable, a carefully constructed blank mask, and he bowed slightly in her direction. “I apologize,” he said to the floor. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Clutching the front of her ruined shirt to her body, she felt her chest shake, and a strange sound filled the room. Laughter. _Her_ laughter. She was laughing at him, at herself, at the pure _ridiculousness_ of the situation she found herself in. John’s eyes narrowed and he crossed the floor, grasping her by the shoulders tightly. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"You're... you're apologizing... to me... about being inappropriate... after all the _shit_ you've put me through..." she laughed, tears of mirth streaming down her face.

John stared down at her and took a step back. He watched her as her laughter subsided to giggles, then eventually hiccups, clearly trying to control his anger. "Turn around so I can dress your wounds," he instructed through gritted teeth, ignoring her outburst. Once he'd finished, he marched across to the bench and threw the other bag to her, which landed at her feet. "There's fresh clothes in there."

And before she could ask how she was supposed to put on a new shirt while handcuffed, he'd gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter ready to go! Enjoy! :)
> 
> 2019 edit posted 04/03/19.

John had returned once not long after that incident, fuming. The deputy could hear him yelling at people from down the hall, knocking things over as he went. He stormed into the cell with four guards, instructing them to hold her down while he yanked her jeans halfway down her ass and carved the word _PRIDE_ into the flesh above her right hip, ranting senselessly about her pride and how it was stopping her from confessing her sins to him. She tried to resist at first, but she was no match for five grown men in her diminished state.

She had not seen him since.

The deputy had lost count of the number of meals she'd had and how many times the bucket had been emptied. She was now free to roam around her cell - one of the guards had taken off her cuffs after John’s attempt at cleansing the wounds on her back so she could dress properly, and he hadn't put them back on. Someone came to change the dressing on her back frequently, and the radio wouldn’t pick up any other station but the Peggie one, so she knew all their songs word for word. Sometimes she’d even sing along.

The deputy had been given thin black tracksuit bottoms and a grey tank top to replace the old clothes Dutch had given her. A guard had even brought in a tub of luke-warm water and a washcloth so she could give herself a bath. It was _glorious_. She stripped off while two guards stood inside the room facing away from her. Modesty was no longer in her vocabulary - she assumed someone was watching through the door all the time. So, she squatted over the basin and washed herself from head to toe, taking joy in the feeling of the soapy water as it coated her skin.

Having gone so long without visitors though, she found herself starting to become bored and lonely. The guards would not talk to her during their rounds. At first, she didn't want to talk to them either, but as the time wore on, and John didn't show (was she missing him? _No._ ), she tried to make conversation with them but they would not speak to her. The deputy started to think it might be better if she made up some confession to get out of her cell the next time John came to see her... _if_ he came to see her. Try to explain her actions, why she'd killed so many of his followers ( _T_ _rying to defend myself,_ she reasoned). But without the Baptist, there was no point in confessing, so she remained alone.

She was roused from her musings by a guard with a first aid kit opening her cell door.

"Sit on the chair." The deputy followed his order, sitting sideways so he could access her back easily. He lifted her shirt, removed the dressings, wiped them over with a clean, damp cloth and pulled her shirt down again. "They do not need to be redressed," he said, standing up and looking down at her with pity in his eyes. "Confess your sins to John, so that you may go free." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and turned to go.

"Wait - how long have I been down here?" she asked, standing and turning to face him.

"Three months," he replied as he closed the door.

She staggered back against the wall. Three months? Had she really lost that much time? What had happened to the rest of her crew in that time? Hudson? Burke? The Sheriff? How much longer did John plan on keeping her down here?

_"Help me Faith, help me Faith, shield me from sorrow, from fear of tomorrow..."_

That damned radio was still chirping behind her. But for the first time, she felt the music was speaking to her. It made sense. She needed help. She needed to get out of the cell, to be pulled from the darkness that was creeping into her mind.

_"I could never be free, 'Cause the shackles I wore, can't be touched or be seen..."_

She looked at the shackles still hanging from the wall, the same ones she spent so long in when she arrived in the bunker. They became blurry as her eyes filled with tears and she slid to the floor, crying in earnest; heaving great sobs that dominated her body. She cried for herself. She cried for her squad. Would she ever be free again?

It felt like she'd been crying for years. She screamed out her sorrow to the cell, pounding the floor with her fists, forehead pressed to the cold concrete. Now she was just another anguished voice in the hellish bunker, indistinguishable from the other prisoners. Two strong arms wrapped themselves around her, pulling her towards a solid, muscular chest. That spicy, musky scent filled her nose - _John_.

"Shh," he soothed, one hand coming up to stroke her hair. "Are you ready to confess now, Deputy?" he whispered softly into her ear. “Are you ready to join the Father in the light?” He had won. He had broken her. It took three months - but he had succeeded.

She couldn't speak, only continue to cry in her sorrow and defeat. He held her, hand stroking through her hair, down her back. Holding her securely against him and whispering words of encouragement. Despite all he had done, he still felt safe and familiar, and she was almost relieved to see him again after so long in isolation. Eventually, the deputy calmed down and relaxed against John, raising her eyes towards the door where Joseph Seed himself was standing. He nodded once, then turned and walked away. The deputy slowly sat up to look at John, who wore a serene, calm expression.

He raised one brow, looking at her expectantly. "Just... say... yes..."

She nodded once, the corners of her mouth turned down. "Yes. Yes, I will confess.”

***

The deputy sat at a table in a different room. Her arms were outstretched and the cuffs around her wrists were welded to the tabletop, just like the interview rooms at the precinct. She shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of Joseph Seed, who sat opposite her. John stood to Joseph’s left, leaning back against the wall casually.

“Deputy,” Joseph began, his voice soft and calm. “I believe you are ready to confess?”

She met his gaze uneasily. Everything about him made her uncomfortable, and he was staring at her intently as if he could read her mind. The only thing she could think of at that moment was sobbing on the floor of her cell while John held her to his chest. John's eyes met hers and he cocked his head to the side slightly before speaking. “Confess, Deputy. Confess and you can leave this place.”

She turned her attention back to the Father, sighing deeply before responding to his question. “I was following orders. New job, new state – I was just following through with what I’d been told. I didn’t – I _couldn’t_ know what would happen. The next thing I know, I have scores of men and women trying to kill me. I was acting in self-defense.” John snorted and shook his head, but Joseph raised a hand to silence him before he motioned to her to continue. “I wanted to save myself and my team. I just wanted to do my job and go h-home.” The word caught in her throat as she thought back to the small, dank box of an apartment she called home. She broke eye contact with Joseph, instead staring at her hands, willing herself not to fall apart again in front of her captors. She was exhausted.

“My child,” Joseph said softly. “They were not trying to kill you, only bring you here, to us, to our family. You will be forgiven. That old life of yours was not _f_ _ulfilling_ you. It was violent. It was rife with sin. You can have a new life here, and join us in Eden’s Gate. John – leave us please.” A brief look of surprise crossed John’s face but he did not protest, instead bowed his head slightly and left the room. Joseph waited for the door to close before continuing. “I believe you heard a message I had left for my brother when you made your way into his home?” She nodded, looking at him again. “He is my family. He is my younger brother. And he has had a hard life. I meant what I said in that message – if he continues down the path he has chosen, he will succumb to his sin. You deserve your chance at redemption, as we all do, but he is not going to help you achieve that with his actions.” He paused, taking time to study her face. “You are strong. You are resilient. And most importantly, you are caring. I want you to help him. Help him find the light again. If you do that, you will march through Eden’s Gate with us and be safe from the Collapse. I have faith in you, child.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held his hand up. “You may stay here to think about this opportunity. Or you can go free today... if you agree to assist me.”

The thought of going back to the cell froze the deputy to her very core. _I will not go back there_ , she thought. _I will_ not.

And with John’s favorite word echoing in her ears she nodded. What choice did she have? “Yes. What would you have me do?”

“I trust you will do what is right,” Joseph replied cryptically, smiling. “John! You may come back.” The door opened and John stepped through, face carefully expressionless. “Our Deputy has confessed and is free to leave this place. However, she is to stay at your Ranch where she can be protected. You will be her guardian until she has atoned.”

John’s eyes narrowed slightly, but again, he did not protest. “As you wish, Joseph.”

Joseph stood, approached John and placed one hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head closer so their foreheads touched, just as he did when so many months ago in the river. “I will be in contact with you soon,” he said, before walking out without a backward glance.

John looked at her, considering, before pulling out a handkerchief and a small bottle. “Time to go, Little Dove,” he said. She watched him upturn the bottle onto the cloth, then he placed it on her face and the world went black.


	5. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, we're going into John's head for a bit.
> 
>  **Warning:** Drug use, mild smut.

He probably didn't _need_ to knock her out to get her from the bunker to the Ranch, but he really wasn’t sure what to do with her. Joseph had sprung his new ward on him suddenly, and he needed time to think. Part of him was happy with the outcome. It meant more time with her, more time to explore… whatever it was he was feeling.

John looked down at her unconscious form thoughtfully. During the trip back to the Ranch from his bunker, he was able to see how filthy she was in the daylight. He carried her from the car to his ensuite, stripping her down to her underwear and placing her into a warm bath. She looked relaxed and peaceful, the ends of her hair floating about her shoulders gently. His eyes travelled down further, briefly stopping on the tattoo beneath her collarbone, then down further still, over her breasts, her stomach, right down to her toes.

It had been a long time since he'd had female company, his duties in the Project taking precedence over everything else. He thought back to his life in Atlanta, when he was younger, and all of the women he’d taken home from bars and clubs. It had been so easy to charm them - the right look, the right touch, and he didn’t even have to ask, they always took him home. He never allowed them in his apartment (it was always “being renovated, it's a mess, really”), but was happy to go back to their homes and fuck them senseless. Although it fulfilled his physical needs, he could never bring himself to create an emotional connection with anyone, so instead buried himself in his work during the day, and between the legs of a stranger in the evening. The memories were a blur, a drug and alcohol-fuelled mess of colour and noise. He tried to recall the last woman he’d slept with, the night before Joseph had found him.

_The woman had thick black hair that fell in ringlets around her face and her lips were painted a dark red. She smelled heavily of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke. He took a long drag of a cigarette himself as he sat naked on her couch, while those painted lips left a lipstick ring around the base of his cock. He placed one hand on the back of her head, closing his eyes, trying to enjoy the moment, but he just couldn’t, and she could tell._

_She sat back on her heels and pouted. “Not doing it for you, sugar?” she asked. “Do you want something to help with the nerves?”_

_He shot her a disgusted look. “I’m not nervous,” he retorted. “But I need… something.”_

_She stood up and walked over to her handbag, producing a little bag with a few small pills in it. He shook his head, so she dove back into her handbag, this time producing two new syringes and a bag of white powder. He nodded and watched her prepare the drug, mixing it up and sucking it into the syringe. He took both syringes from her and gave her his most dazzling smile._

_“Allow me,” he said smoothly, taking her hand. He kissed his way up from her palm to the crook of her elbow, before finding a vein and injecting her with the drug. He then stuck the other syringe into his arm._

_It didn’t take long for the drug’s effects to take hold of him, and before long he had her bent over the back of the couch._

John, of course, had to refrain from those activities once Joseph recruited him for the Project, which had been difficult at first; but he found more creative (and violent) ways to deal with the lack of physical intimacy and other vices. Chin resting in his hand, he considered the woman in front of him, still nameless, a little bird trapped in his cage. At first, she was just another toy to play with, but she tested him, time and again, her stubbornness and defiance driving him mad.

As he sat there pondering, he thought back to the events that brought him here, today, with an officer of the law in his bath.

_He'd been sitting on his bed, laptop on his knee, going through finances. That damn cop had destroyed one silo, six pickup trucks, two tank trucks and taken the Gardenview Packing Facility from his control. Fuck her._

_He saw her shadow through a crack in his curtains, so got up to inspect further. He opened the curtain to see her slowly opening the balcony door, and so he walked to his bedroom door, listening. Soft footsteps down the stairs, and then - was she listening to his voicemail?! This was his chance, the perfect opportunity to capture the woman who had been nothing but a giant pain in his ass._

John smiled to himself then looked down at her again, brushing the hair from her face. What a challenge she'd been, what a _fighter_. She wouldn't give in to him at all, no matter what he threw at her. She'd proved to be pretty useless when it came to information about the Resistance, even when he threatened Hudson. All she knew was what that crackpot Dutch had told her, and she followed his orders like a good little soldier. But despite her not being of any value in his fight against the Resistance, he couldn't bring himself to dispose of her. He was having too much _fun_. The more she fought back, the harder he pushed her. He often found himself thinking about her when he wasn't at the bunker, thinking of new ways to challenge her.

He smiled to himself and tapped his cheek with his index finger, as he thought about one of the altercations they'd had in her cell.

_The Resistance were still fighting back, despite their hero deputy going missing. He'd lost another outpost, and Joseph had made him pay by taking it out on John's flesh. Fuming, he needed to take out his anger on someone, and who better than the hero of the hour? The one whose very sin was Wrath?_

_So he stormed into her cell and demanded she fight him. She was clearly apprehensive, but he kept pushing her, and pushing her, until she caved and elbowed him in the ribs. The rush of adrenaline he felt when she finally gave him what he wanted was exhilarating, and he wanted more._

_She knocked the wind out of him when she launched herself at his waist, and before he knew it he was on his back and she was on top of him. He'd never felt such desire as he did at that moment, as if he'd finally found an equal, someone who would challenge him, instead of another sheep, following his orders blindly. As he considered his next move she punched him in the jaw, making him see red._

_He grabbed her thighs and twisted his body, rolling her beneath him. It took him a moment to realise her hand was trapped, so he moved to free it, but couldn't bring himself to move from her completely. It felt like he belonged there, safe against the curves of her body, and he leaned down, pushing his hips into hers. He'd felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her then, but of course, she had other ideas and tried to bite him._

“Such a feisty little thing,” he said to her, knowing she couldn't hear him. “But I do love a challenge.”

John chuckled softly to himself and shook his head. It was that moment, in that dank cell, he realised he wanted her. He lusted after her, his desire for her hanging over him constantly. He needed to take a step back, else he did something he'd regret.

So he did. He left her alone (kind of). He visited her cell every day, watching her through the window in the door, but never went in. He had spent weeks trying to think up new ways to break her, and she didn't respond in the way any of his other captives did. They always feared the physical pain, but she just took it, almost relished it, proving to him over and over that she could take anything he threw her way. Until he left her alone for two months. Then he saw the cracks, saw her tough exterior crumble until finally, finally, she gave in. Finally, _finally_ , he could go to her, wrap his arms around her and coax her into confessing. Of course, he never expected Joseph to put her into his care, he assumed he’d put her to work at the compound, or even give her to Jacob to train to become one of the Chosen.

She let out a soft moan and started to move slowly, and he felt that familiar tug behind his navel. _Damnit, Deputy,_ he thought. _What are you doing to me?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had to add some rooms to the main house in Seed Ranch to try and make it fit (they have to sleep somewhere, right?). Also I'm not American and have never been to America, so if my descriptions of NY or Seattle are bad, that's why :D
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_“Here's your key, sweetheart,” the balding landlord said to her, dropping a single key into her palm. “I'll be seeing you around. I like redheads.” He winked at her before sauntering down the hall._

_She shuddered and unlocked the door to her new apartment. It was dark, so she went to switch on the light - there was no globe. Sighing in frustration, she used her phone's flashlight app to see in the gloom, dragging her suitcase behind her. There were no light globes_ at all _. The apartment was furnished (horribly, and sans any source of light), but she wasn't going to spend much time here anyway. It was just somewhere to sleep between shifts._

_The thought of meeting Sheriff Whitehorse the following day excited her. She'd been selected at his request to assist in the arrest of a violent cult leader in Hope County. He'd wanted her with his team after a daring (and somewhat stupid, if she were being honest) takedown of a mob boss in New York a few months earlier, posing as a prostitute after following him from a restaurant. After convincing him to drive her to a motel, she'd arrested him._

_She'd had to relocate from New York to Seattle after that, and was pounced on by Whitehorse within days of arriving. She'd been staying in a hotel while she was looking for an apartment. The move was easy - she had no family and few friends, so she packed up her clothes and left._

_She sat down at the small dining table and started a new note in her phone:_ buy light globes.

The memory started to fade as the deputy slowly woke up. Warm. Wet. Comforting. She felt as though she was in a warm cocoon, floating joyously, safe and cosy, unhampered sadness or fear. She moaned slightly, stretching her aching body. Was this Heaven? Did she actually end up buying those light globes?

“Careful Deputy, you might cause me to lose my self-control again.” John said, a hint of a smirk in his voice. Her eyes flew open. She was staring up at his upside-down face. Behind him was a timber ceiling. She glanced around quickly - she was in a bathtub. _Christ,_ she thought. _What the fuck is he doing?_ She went to move away from him, but of course, she was laying in a bath and he was sitting behind her - he had her in a headlock before she could even try and stand up. “Calm down, I won’t hurt you. Unless you give me a reason to.” He flashed her a wolfish grin.

The deputy glanced down at her body – to her relief, he’d left bra and underwear on. She relaxed slightly. He released her and grabbed a cup, pouring warm water over her head, then squeezed a thick white liquid into his hand from a bottle next to him and started massaging it into her hair. His sleeves were rolled up past the elbow and he looked to be concentrating on his task. The feeling of his fingers on her scalp felt heavenly and she zoned out again.

She realised he’d been talking to her. “…I couldn’t stand the smell.” Was the end of the sentence she caught.

She snorted, coming back to reality. “Well when you keep someone captive for three months and only give them a sponge bath once, what the fuck do you expect?”

John stopped his ministrations momentarily and scowled down at her, but said nothing. He continued to work in silence, taking his time massaging the shampoo into her scalp before rinsing it out and combing conditioner through her hair. _Why is he doing this?_ He set the comb aside and rose to his feet, looking down at her. “Soap-“ he said, pointing to a bottle he’d just placed on his chair. “There’s a clean towel, and clean clothes over there. You may take over from here. I will be on the other side of this door. The window is locked, and I have removed the lock from the bathroom door. If you break the window, I will catch you – I’m faster, clothed and dry. You are tired, weak and _wet_.” He grinned at the last word. “Put your old underwear in the bin over there.” And he left.

The deputy took a moment to compose herself. She was obviously back at Seed Ranch – that much she could tell by the architecture and décor. The bathtub stood in the centre of the room, facing the door. A shower and a cupboard were to her right, the basin and window to her left. She turned around and looked behind her. Full-length mirror. Toilet. Okay.

Sighing, she reached around behind her body and unhooked her bra. She wrung it out and flung it to the floor, then did the same with her panties. She grabbed the body wash and shakily stood in the bath, turning to look at herself in the mirror. She looked marginally better than she did at the last check, however, she was much thinner than she remembered, and she had lost some muscle too. Her eyes settled briefly on the tattoo on her chest, then down to the shiny scars of _PRIDE_ John had bestowed above her hip. She sighed sadly. Turning away from the mirror, she grabbed the soap, created a lather and set to work. She worked from her feet to her face, slowly, making sure she was properly clean, finally washing away the months of sweat and blood, feeling like she hadn’t been clean in years.

After rinsing her body and her hair, she pulled the plug on the bath. The towel was fresh and clean, fluffy and soft against her skin. The deputy took her time to carefully dry herself and get dressed. The clothes John provided were much different from the last time. In front of her were white cotton underthings and a pale blue dress. It was light and sleeveless, and stopped just above the knee. She surveyed herself once more in the mirror. Her skin looked too pale, and her hair was darker from the lack of sunlight. _Good enough._

She opened the door to find John sitting on a bed, elbows on his knees. He looked up at her and seemed briefly taken aback. “Look at you! You don't even look like a cop,” he remarked, standing. He walked towards her. “I suppose now you’re bathed you want to be fed. Typical. Follow me.”

Without giving her a chance to survey the new room she was in or even reply, he’d grabbed her by the elbow and was steering her out through the door. She found herself on the internal balcony she’d been on when she entered the house on the night she was caught. Her eyes darted around the room, quickly mapping the house in her head.

“Stop that.” he chided. “Stop planning your escape route. There’s no point.” He stopped momentarily at the top of the stairs, then leaned in so his face was close to hers, his voice low and dangerous. “You wouldn’t want to go back to the bunker, would you?”

He turned and started walking down the stairs, leaving her frozen in place. That musky smell. That warm breath on her ear and neck. That stirring in the pit of her belly…

“For fuck’s sake Dep, _hurry up_.”

She followed him down the stairs, past the table with the telephone and through another set of double doors into a spacious kitchen area, with a dining table large enough to seat a dozen people.

“Take a seat. _I’ll_ get you the food - you’ll forgive me for not trusting you with sharp knives. Do you eat meat?”

“Yes.”

One corner of John's mouth twitched at the use of his favourite word. “Good.” The deputy watched as he flitted around the kitchen, making sandwiches. He almost looked like any other man, making food in his home. But he wasn’t just any other man. He was John Seed the Baptist, confessor, kidnapper and torturer of Hope County.

She fought to keep her anger in check as she thought about the atrocious acts he performed on the local citizens and on her colleague back at the bunker. “What did you do with Hudson?” she asked him, struggling to keep her voice even. “Did you free her too?”

He looked up at her, serrated bread knife in hand. It glinted dangerously in the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window. “She has been released into the care of my sister,” he replied evenly. “She is safe, and that is all you need to know.”

The deputy started building an argument in her head, but thought better of it - if she could escape, she could go to Henbane River and try to free Hudson. No point risking Hudson’s life over an argument - what if he called Faith and ordered she be executed?

He set two plates with sandwiches down, one for each of them, taking a seat next to her. She went to grab the sandwich before her and he pulled the plate out of her reach. “Now, now, don’t make me give you a new tattoo, _glutton_. We must say Grace, first.” He put the plate back in front of her and held out his hand. She looked at it for a moment, then put her hand in his. It was large and warm. She felt like electricity was surging from him up her fingers, through her arm, all the way down to-

 _Stop that,_ she thought. She inhaled deeply and waited for him to finish his prayer. They ate in silence.

When their plates were empty, John handed her a napkin. “I have a phone call to make.” he said suddenly. He called for two guards. “Watch her – do not let her out of your sight.” He strode from the room, leaving her sitting at the table, suddenly full of energy but unsure what to do. She glanced out of the kitchen window, towards the plane hangar. Then she had an idea.

“Hey,” she called for the guard’s attention. “Where can a girl go for a run around here?”

The guards looked at each other, puzzled.

***

The deputy hadn’t been given any shoes, but she didn’t care. The grass was soft and cool beneath her feet, despite the heat of the day. The late afternoon sun shone brightly overhead, and now she was outside, everything was beautiful, bathed in a lovely golden glow. She’d convinced the guards to let her go for a run, promising to stay in their sight, away from the fence. They obliged and marched her to the airstrip on the property. John wasn’t planning on going anywhere today, they said. No one else should be using the airstrip.

So she contented herself with running in a long oval on the stretch of grass that was the Seed Ranch airstrip. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been running for, but she’d never felt so _free_. She used the time to survey the property and think. Think about the events that brought her here. Think about how to save her crew. Think about those jolts of electricity she felt when John touched her.

There was no denying he was an attractive man, despite his sadistic tendencies. He was taller than her by a good six inches, always presented himself well, and _those eyes_. She slowed down slightly and shook her head. She needed to stop that. She needed to get out of the Ranch and rejoin the Resistance.

She frowned as she pictured him. “That man is a goddamned trap,” she muttered to herself. 

Her mind wandered again, and she thought of her ex-boyfriend instead. He was on the force too. Six-foot-something with muscles out to here, but far too clingy and overprotective. Their relationship had been brief. What was his name? They hadn’t broken up that long ago. Why couldn’t she remember his _name_? She grimaced as she remembered the argument they'd had before she left New York:

 _“You posed as a_ hooker _?!” her boyfriend had screamed at her. Everyone in the precinct was silent and still, no one dared to move. “What were you_ thinking _? Why didn't you tell me?”_

_She looked at him blankly. “I saw an opportunity and took it. This wasn't your case,” she replied coldly. He always overreacted, to everything._

_“This is just…_ beyond _. I can't deal with you right now, I just can't.” He put his hands behind his head and paced back and forth in front of her._

_“Then don't,” she said simply. “I'm moving to Seattle.”_

_He flared up again. “I'm not fucking moving to Seattle!”_

_She rolled her eyes. “_ You're _not._ I _am.”_

The deputy's eyes raked over the fence by the forest as she shook the memory from her mind. Not very tall and only made of wood. She could vault it easily - if she could build up her strength and stamina again. But not in a dress. From there she could hide in the forest and make her way to Fall’s End… _Oh,_ she thought. _There’s a massive fucking gap in the fence that leads to the forest anyway._

Somewhere in the background she heard a quad bike approaching, but she didn’t think too much of it until it sped past her and stopped just a few metres directly in her running path. John dismounted just in time for her to crash face-first into him.

“What. The fuck. Are you doing?” he growled, gripping her upper arms and pushing her away from his body, holding her at arm’s length.

She blinked. “Running,” she replied stupidly, not understanding the issue.

He had started to push her towards the bike, before he picked her up with ease and put her on it, sitting behind her. His arms reached out around her to grab the handles of the bike, trapping her. She started to protest as the bike lurched forward and then turned around, heading for the guards who had been watching her. John, of course, ignored her. The guards started to run, but one tripped and John stopped the bike neatly on his leg. The guard screamed in pain. John did not move from the bike, but pulled a pistol from a holster at his waist and shot the retreating guard in the back. The poor man went down like a stone in water. John directed his attention to the man on the ground before him.

“Why did you think I would have allowed this?” he spat at the guard, who cried out in pain. “With both of you standing back here like idiots. If she decided to hop the fence at the other end of the airstrip, would your sorry asses have been able to catch up with her?”

The guard trembled and sobbed. “I’m sorry John, I didn’t think.”

“No,” John agreed grimly. “You didn’t.” He pointed the pistol at the guard and shot him in the temple.

The deputy sat there in stunned silence. He said nothing, reversing the bike and turning it around, heading for a gap in the fence that led to the forest.

“Why did you-?” she began, but John clamped one hand over her mouth.

“Shut. Up.”

He removed his hand and continued down a forest path, finally coming to stop at a river. White lace hung from the trees in the small clearing by the water. Covered hay bales were set up like church pews, and a Book of Joseph sat atop one of them. He dismounted the bike and dragged her off too, pulling her down into the water. _Oh no. Not this again._

“We were supposed to do this with other witnesses, but there’s no time like the present. You confessed, Deputy,” John said, turning her to face him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “Now you must be cleansed.”

“You’ve done that already,” she protested. “Months ago, remember?”

“You’re starting over.” he spat. He stood staring at her for a moment, before he softened slightly. “You must start over, to begin your new life with the Project. You’ve confessed, you will be Cleansed, then you will atone. That’s the way it works.”

Seeing no other way around it, she nodded. “I suppose I don’t have a choice about that?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

He started to recite words from Joseph’s bible from memory, speaking too quickly in his agitation. The words washed over her but she couldn’t take them in, anticipating what was about to come. Eventually, he stopped speaking, inhaled deeply and placed one hand on her chest, the other behind her back, and slowly lowered her backwards into the water. She closed her eyes and let the water hold her. An odd feeling of calm and peace seemed to spread from his hands to the rest of her body, as if he were pushing her worries out of her into the water, where they were dissolving and being carried off by the current. One of the Peggie songs popped into her mind, and the corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile.

_”If your soul has grown weary, and your heart feels tired, let the water wash away your sins…”_

John raised her from the water then, helping her steady herself. His hands did not move, and he stood staring at her. The deputy felt her heart beat hard in her chest as she blinked the water from her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but he closed the small gap between them and crushed his mouth to hers, his hand moving from her chest to cradle her head, pulling her towards him.

Her mind was empty. What was he doing? She opened her eyes briefly to look at him. His eyes were closed, although he was frowning, concentrating on his task.

John's arm at her back slid around her waist, pulling her further against him, deepening the kiss. He inhaled deeply through his nose and swiped his tongue across her lower lip. Her lips parted in surprise rather than invitation, and he took the opportunity, his warm tongue sliding between her teeth and coaxing her tongue to dance with his. As if she had no control over herself, she responded to him and wrapped her arms around his torso to press herself against him completely. She could feel his desire pressing hard into her stomach, and a soft moan escaped her lips. This seemed to startle him and he broke the kiss, pulling back and staring at her intently, breathing hard. He did not release her.

The sun was starting to set, flecks of gold peeked through the trees and splashed his face, which was unreadable. Slowly and without speaking, he stepped away from her and lead her back to the bike. She straddled the seat and he sat down behind her, heat radiating from him, penetrating her clothes and sinking into her skin. He drove back to the ranch and guided her into the house. They walked silently up the stairs, when he gestured to a room with no door.

“You will sleep here,” John motioned to a room at the end of the hall, but he did not look at her. “I have removed the door. There is a small ensuite that does not lock. I will have guards positioned outside your door always. Do not try to leave.”

She opened her mouth to ask him why he’d kissed her, but he turned on his heel and opened the double doors to her left. She caught a quick peek of the room beyond – the room he was waiting in after she finished her bath. His quarters. Two guards came trotting up the stairs, forcing her into the guest room with no door. She looked around. A double bed. A wardrobe. A small desk with a radio and a lamp. An open doorway to the small bathroom.

Feeling lost and alone, she stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. What the hell had just happened? Why did he do that? Why didn’t she _stop_ him? Why didn’t she feel as disgusted and horrified as she probably should? These questions ran in circles through her head as she started to walk towards the bathroom. As she undressed, she heard something smash down the hall, followed by John’s angry scream. She closed her eyes and stepped into the shower, trying to block him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John kissed a girl and he liked it - but he also got super mad about it. Go figure.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter!
> 
>  **Warning:** A little bit of nsfw stuff at the beginning.

The deputy slept uneasily. Finally, she was sleeping in a proper bed, but she tossed and turned. Her dreams were jumbled – the faces of her team, her job in New York, her ex-boyfriend, the cell that was her home for three months, and John. John, cutting her shirt and tattooing her chest. John, punching her in the face and splitting her lip. John, laughing as he inflicted pain, after pain, after pain. John, kissing her in the river. 

_John, approaching her bed, kneeling between her legs and biting the inside of one of her thighs. He started to suck on her skin before tearing his mouth away, leaving an angry red mark and doing the same thing to the other thigh. His fingers crept up slowly and finally, he touched her, two fingers sliding into her effortlessly as he moved his mouth to lick her-_

Her eyes shot open, waking from the dream with a start. It took her a moment to realise she was panting, her heart beating fast, her head filled with images from the dream. She considered reaching a shaky hand down between her legs to hang onto that feeling when she was startled by a voice by the door.

John was leaning on the empty doorway, watching her, a smirk twisting the corners of his mouth. “Well, good morning.” he smiled. “Having a good dream, were we? If you need to finish things off I can wait. But it is a sin!” He chuckled then. “No, no, there’s no time!” He clapped his hands together, pushing himself off the door frame and taking a few steps into the room. “We must get ready to go. Come along!”

He stood, waiting for her to get out of bed. She was wearing a t-shirt she’d found in the wardrobe, but nothing else besides underwear. “I’m not wearing any pants,” she said, voice still shaking slightly, narrowing her eyes at him. “Can you leave so I can get dressed?”

He slowly approached the bed and sat on its edge, one arm crossing her body so she couldn’t move. He leaned in, his face inches from hers. “I’ve seen you without pants before, Little Dove,” he whispered. “Several times. Once more couldn't hurt.” Her gaze did not waver, staring him down, unmoving. He withdrew and laughed again, getting up and striding to the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

She had another shower and got dressed, fuming. John was proving to be a confusing storm of emotions - one minute he was angry, then he was friendly, then he was kissing her. _Then you’re dreaming about fucking him,_ she thought angrily. She hated him ordering her around, but she was defenceless and being watched at all times, so she begrudgingly complied.

She went hunting through the wardrobe for clothes. There wasn’t anything practical in there – mostly dresses, a few t-shirts and some shorts. No long pants. _Figures,_ she thought. _It’d be too easy to give me proper fucking clothes._ She grabbed a pair of shorts and was about to step into them, when John’s voice floated up the stairs, “Wear a dress! You need to look presentable!” Rolling her eyes, she threw the shorts into the cupboard and grabbed a cream coloured dress, similar to the blue one she wore the day before. All the dresses were similar, she noted. Pale, pastel colours, the perfect cut for the warm Montana days. She slipped on a pair of flat shoes and left the room.

When the deputy entered the kitchen, John was standing beside the table. Before him were three items – a pair of handcuffs, a black cloth bag, and an apple. She shook her head.

“You’re not putting that bag over my head,” she said defiantly. “Where are you taking me?”

He chuckled. “Come on Dep, there’s two ways this can go. You can wear the cuffs and the bag, and eat your apple – or I can knock you out. How will you eat then?” She sighed in defeat and approached him with her wrists held out. He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Behind.”

Rolling her eyes for the second time that morning, she turned around, holding her hands behind her. She was fighting the urge to turn around again and sucker punch him. “And how will I eat my apple?” she asked sarcastically, eyeing the shiny red piece of fruit on the table in front of her. The cuffs clinked softly as he closed them around her wrists.

He leaned around her and picked it up, holding it in front of her face. “Take a bite,” he replied simply, his breath warm on her shoulder.

She twisted her upper body around slightly to look at him, frowning. “Why couldn’t I just eat the apple before you cuffed me?”

He smiled at her slyly, bringing the apple closer to his chest, making her turn around and face him. “Come on now Dep, where’s the fun in that?”

She was hungry, so she suppressed the urge to argue with him, having no choice now but to eat the apple out of his hand. Once she’d finished, he put the bag over her head and marched her outside. The helicopter roared to life as he lifted her into the aircraft, strapped her in and settled in beside her.

She felt him lean closer to her, his shoulder touching hers, his mouth somewhere near her cheek. “Now, you’re probably wondering where we’re going. It’s a surprise!”

She sighed. Clearly, else she wouldn’t be cuffed and blindfolded. He helped her out of the aircraft once it landed and stood behind her, then placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on the top of her head.

“Are you ready?” he asked close to her ear.

“Ready for what?” she retorted, getting agitated.

“Just say yes.” he whispered.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to calm herself. “Yes.”

The bag was ripped from her head, and bright sunlight hit her in the face. Once her eyes had adjusted, she realised she was standing before a white church. To the left of the door, a sign proclaimed:

“TODAY'S READING  
JEREMIAH 23:16”

John made an irritated noise behind her. “I thought I told him to take that down,” he muttered. “Come, Little Dove. It's time for Mass.”

She glanced back as he undid her handcuffs and pocketed them, noticing he had one of Joseph's bibles tucked under one arm. His other hand settled on the small of her back, urging her towards the church. What else could she do but obey? She glanced around quickly - she was in Fall’s End. There was a truck nearby, if she could only get to it fast enough-

“I wouldn't,” John said casually. “There are snipers around.”

She turned and looked up at him defiantly. “You wouldn't care if I were gunned down. Why are you even keeping me around, John?”

He looked at her, considering. “It is the will of the Father. I wouldn’t say I _wouldn’t care_. Who would keep me entertained? Come now, I've shown you mine. Now it's your turn. What is your name?”

She turned from him silently and walked into the church. She heard him chuckle behind her as he followed her up the steps.

The pews were full of townsfolk. Some looked happy to be there, some looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. All eyes were on her as she entered. A few people gasped, some muttered amongst themselves. John ushered her to the altar before his congregation, turning her to face the crowd, smiling to the room.

“Brothers and sisters!” he proclaimed. “Welcome, welcome. As you can see, we have a new sister joining us today. I’m sure most of you know – or know _of_ – the Deputy, by now? Well, she’s confessed her sins and has decided to join the Project at Eden’s Gate. Please, welcome her.” There was a mixed round of applause – enthusiastic from the converted, timid from those that were forced to be there.

John motioned for her to sit in the front row to his left before he opened his Bible and started to read. She listened to him drivel on, but the words he read from the pages held no meaning to her. She wasn’t religious before, and she didn’t plan on changing that now. But as she was defenceless, and there were four Peggies holding rather large rifles in the room, she sat politely in her pew, watching him work. He was a natural performer, confident and fierce in his reading. She looked at the faces around the room - almost everyone seemed to be sucked in by him, hanging on his every word; even the ones that had earlier looked apprehensive. There were still a few people in the crowd who looked sceptical, and they kept looking at her through narrowed eyes.

When the sermon ended and she stood with the rest of the congregation. John approached and stood in front of her, blocking her from getting out. He smiled pleasantly at the people leaving the church. A few came up to speak to him.

“What a moving sermon today, John,” said one woman, grasping one of his hands in hers. “Truly, we are blessed. And you! We are so fortunate you found the light. Welcome!” She watched the woman totter away.

Soon after, a young girl approached. She couldn’t have been older than seventeen, and she was looking at John with an obvious “first crush” expression. “Oh, John!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. His eyes widened briefly in shock and his arms stayed pinned to his sides. “I’ve _so_ been looking forward to you coming back to Fall’s End. Such a beautiful sermon today, but you knew that because they’re always wonderful.” She released him when she realized he wasn’t going to return her embrace. “Um… mama said it was alright if I asked you around for dinner one evening. Would that… would that be okay? Would you like to come? For dinner? With me? I mean, with my family.” Her cheeks turned bright red and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to look at him or the floor.

The deputy watched in mild amusement, trying to conceal her smirk by putting one hand over her mouth. John stepped away from the girl slightly and shook his head. “Sorry Penny, I would love to, but I can’t. The Father needs me now more than ever, I have important errands to run for him.” The girl looked absolutely heartbroken. “Tell your mother the offer was very kind. Thank you.”

Penny sulked out of the church, the last one to leave. John turned to his men. “Wait outside,” he ordered. Once they had left and the doors were closed, he turned to speak to the deputy, and she burst into laughter.

“That poor girl!” she giggled. “Oh, how sweet. You never told me you had a _girlfriend!_ ”

He frowned at her and rolled his eyes. “I do not. She’s always been like that, she just won’t let up.” He shook his head. “She’s just a child. Oh _shut up_.” He said, clearly trying not smile. She marvelled quietly at how relaxed he was, how… _normal_. “Well? Do you have questions or comments about today’s lesson?”

Assuming this would take a while, she sat down in the pew again. “No.”

“None at all?”

“I wasn’t really listening.” She flinched, expecting him to retaliate – instead, it was his turn to laugh as he sat next to her. It was a warm sound that filled the room.

“It is fairly dry. But I do these things because I love my brother.” He slid one arm over the back of the pew behind her, his hips jutting forwards slightly and his knees apart, getting comfortable. “Are you religious at all?”

She was surprised by such a personal question from him. “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “My parents were, but it just never clicked with me. I didn't feel the connection they did, it just seemed more like a fairytale… There was nothing tangible to it.”

“I lost my faith quite young,” he muttered, seemingly more to himself than to her. He was studying the tattoos on his hand in his lap. “I threw myself into study, into… Other things, any vice I could indulge in. Sex, drugs, rock and roll… all of that. But Joseph found me, gave me a purpose. Even if that purpose is to serve _him_.” He followed that last sentence with a short, bitter laugh.

They sat in silence for a few minutes and she mulled over their short conversation. He seemed to be opening up to her… and she felt _sorry_ for him. What if Joseph was right? What if she could help his brother? She thought about what happened in the river the day before and _that kiss_. The way his lips felt on hers, his warm tongue slipping between her teeth, the feeling of his arms pulling her against him. Improper thoughts to be having in a church, to be sure, and probably not what Joseph had in mind. She shifted uncomfortably and crossed her legs.

She turned to him to try and ask him again why he’d kissed her, when rapid gunfire tore through the silence. He went to push her to the ground - and she did the same, her officer’s instincts kicking in. They sat staring at each other in confusion.

He glanced at the door, then back to her. “Get to the helicopter, tell the pilot to take you back to the Ranch.”

Her first instinct was to fight him. She was an officer of the law, handling these situations was her bread and butter - but she knew as soon as she picked up a weapon she’d be the next target. They ran to the door together. She could see the helicopter, but also the truck she spied earlier - she could use this chance to escape, too. Her plans for freedom were interrupted by John squeezing her hand briefly and nodding towards the aircraft, before he ran towards the road to her right, a small army of Peggies following his lead. She stood in the doorway, pondering what to do. Should she stay? Should she try to flee? She’d been publicly outed as a member of the cult now – if she fled, the locals may not assist her. Cursing John, she ran for the helicopter.

“Rook!” a familiar voice called. She turned to see Hudson standing on the other side of the road with an AK in her hands, a look of shocked outrage on her face. “Rook, what are you doing? Have you _joined_ them?” She realised that Hudson must have seen John holding her hand. _Damnit._ She stood frozen in place, unsure what to do. Hudson raised the AK and pointed it at her. “Don’t make me shoot you, Rook. Raise your hands and come with me. I’ll take you to Whitehorse.”

The deputy looked around wildly. There was no sign of John and nothing nearby with which she could defend herself. “Hudson, I’m unarmed,” she turned slowly on the spot. “I’m not a threat to you.” 

Hudson narrowed her eyes. “Then come here and prove it.”

Slowly, the deputy started approaching Hudson, as one of the Peggies was also approaching her, from behind. He raised the butt of his rifle and struck her on the side of the head, knocking her out cold. The deputy dove for Hudson’s dropped gun, but the Peggie kicked it out of her reach, shaking his head.

“John needs us,” he said simply, motioning towards the helicopter. He grabbed her upper arm and steered her towards it, getting in with her.

“What are you doing?” she yelled. “I can’t just leave her there!”

“You can, and you will.” he replied simply. “We don’t have time. Quickly, get back to the Ranch!” he yelled at the pilot. Angry, she strapped herself in and turned to look down the main street of Fall’s End. There were scores of people fighting in the street - she couldn’t see John, or Hudson. The helicopter turned and started to move away from the town.

Bullets hit the side of the aircraft, and the pilot cursed loudly and increased their altitude. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. What if they went down? What would happen to Hudson? How did she escape from Faith? How would she contact John? What if he didn’t make it out of the town? She rolled her eyes at herself. _You idiot,_ she thought. _Why are you worried about him? After he tortured you for three months? What is_ wrong _with you? If he doesn’t come back you can try and get out, get to Hudson, try and explain..._

 _He's all you've got at the moment,_ another voice reasoned.

The helicopter did arrive safely back at the Ranch, a little worse for wear; and not knowing what else to do, the deputy went into the house. What was she to do now? She looked at the clock - it was just past noon. Still early. She paced the living room floor, thinking. How could she help? The short answer was, she couldn’t. She was blocked from going anywhere in the house aside from the kitchen, the living room and her own room, she couldn't take a weapon, she couldn't call anyone...

The Peggie that had knocked Hudson out spoke to her. Away from the confusion, she recognised him as being the one who advised her to confess in the cell. “There’s no point being cooped up in here. Come for a walk,” he said gently. He had soft brown eyes and a kind face. His beard was short and trimmed neatly, a dirty blonde colour that matched his long hair. He tapped the rifle at his side, warning her that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her if she tried to flee, but beckoned her towards the door anyway. She walked with him around the Ranch grounds, three more Peggies following them. “My name is Brother James,” he told her after a few minutes of walking in silence. “And your name is?”

She shook her head. “Deputy,” she replied, not looking at him. “Or Dep, or Rookie, or Rook. Pick one.”

He raised a brow. “Deputy what?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? My life today is nothing like my life three months ago. What would giving you my name achieve?”

He smiled at her. “It would make you easier to address, for a start. John complained to me that you wouldn’t disclose your name when you were imprisoned. I suppose he never asked you _why_ you wouldn’t give him your name?”

“No,” she replied. “That selfish asshole? He just demands whatever he wants, I doubt he cares about the whys of anything.”

Brother James chuckled. “You’re not wrong, he can be very… single-minded.” He stopped and turned to face her. “Despite his flaws and his sins, he is doing good work here. He _is_ helping people. My family were on the brink of homelessness. I couldn’t find work, I couldn’t feed my wife or our two children. John found us, took us in, helped us atone for our sins, and now we finally have a purpose, together.” He pulled his shirt open to reveal the word _GLUTTONY_ inked onto his chest. She looked at him sadly. “It was credit card debt that did us in - we just kept buying things, kept consuming, far more than we needed. When I lost my job, I couldn’t afford to pay the cards off, and the bank was going to repossess our house. We’d be living on the street if John hadn’t have found us when he did.”

This made her stop and think. Yes, it was good of John and the Project to save this man and his family from homelessness. But at what cost?

“I know what you’re thinking - what about the pain and fear John inflicts?” Brother James said, pulling her from her thoughts. “It’s necessary. It clears the fog in your mind, lifts the veil, provides clarity. He puts the fear of God in us, and we are better for it. We are building a community that will endure after the Collapse.”

She couldn’t form a response to this, so she remained silent. He continued.

“Now we couldn’t be happier. Our children are learning valuable life skills, skills to help their fellow brothers and sisters in the greater community that is Eden’s Gate. My wife helps make clothes, and I help John.”

“Help John with what?” she asked suspiciously.

He smiled. “With whatever he needs. That day I took the dressings off your back? I knew he needed you then, which is why I implored you to confess.”

“Needed me?”

“I fear I may have said too much,” Brother James said, still smiling serenely. “But just know, despite his flaws, he is still a caring man. He just never gets many opportunities to show it.”

She allowed him to lead her back to the house and left her alone with her thoughts.

***

John still wasn’t back by nightfall. He still wasn’t back by midnight. Despite her scalding herself, the deputy was starting to worry. She tried recalling memories of her life before Hope County to try and distract herself. She sat at the desk in her room, recalling her decision to move to Seattle.

_”You did great work, kid,” her Captain had said to her. “It was a risky move though, and I can’t guarantee your safety now. You can stay here in New York if you want, but it would be a wise move to relocate if you can.”_

_She stared at him blankly. “Move? Why?”_

_He looked at her grimly. “At least until things blow over here. You’ve helped put away a powerful man. I wouldn’t be surprised if you became a target yourself.” He gave her a hard stare. He was right, of course. “I have some connections in Seattle, I can make inquiries for you if you like.”_

_She looked out of the internal window to the precinct, eyes settling on her boyfriend. He didn’t know what she’d done yet (well,_ how _she'd done it), and she wasn’t invested enough in the relationship to stay in this city for him. She nodded. “Thank you Sir, that would be great.”_

Where would she be if she hadn’t taken him up on that offer? What if she’d looked at another city instead? She shook her head. _No point in thinking about that now, you’re here. Get used to it._ She changed into a t-shirt and slid between the sheets of her bed, falling into another uneasy sleep, her dreams filled with twisted visions of the Fall’s End church engulfed in flames, and John lying in the street in front of it, riddled with bullets, staring blankly up at the stars. She was woken by a weight behind her, jolting the mattress, and a bare arm pulling her backwards. She struggled sleepily, trying to get out of the person's grip, but then that musky scent filled her nose.

“John?”

He did not answer, but instead settled himself behind her. His bare knees came to nestle in behind hers. She turned her head to try and face him, her cheek coming to rest on the cool flesh of his shoulder. _No shirt._

“John?” she tried again. His arm around her stiffened, pulling her further against him, but he remained silent.

She wriggled slightly, trying to get comfortable under his vice-like grip. She lay in his arms, feeling his body shake gently behind her, her pillow becoming damp as his emotions got the better of him. Brother James’ words echoed in her ears:

_“But just know, despite his flaws, he is still a caring man. He just never gets many opportunities to show it.”_

She laid her hand over his, and said nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather lengthy.
> 
>  **Warning:** Smut. Just smut.

The next morning, the deputy awoke alone. Had she dreamed he had come to her bed? She got up, pulled on a pair of shorts and went downstairs. He wasn’t in the living room. He wasn’t in the kitchen. Maybe he hadn’t come back at all? Maybe it had been another dream?

“Up here, Little Dove,” his voice floated down the stairs. She made her way back up to find him leaning against her door frame, arms crossed, wearing nothing but black cotton boxers, his tattoos and scars on display. “Miss me?” he smirked.

Her eyes narrowed and she launched herself at him, startling him back into the room. “Where were you? What happened? Why didn’t you send word back here? _Where were you?_ ” She hit him in the chest, square in the sternum.

A shadow crossed his face and he looked like he was prepared to retaliate, but he closed his eyes instead and inhaled deeply. He exhaled slowly, and sat on her bed as she stood before him, arms crossed. “I could have run,” she said. “I saw _Hudson_ , and she saw _you_ holding my damn hand. Did you know she wasn’t with Faith anymore? If Brother James hadn’t have knocked her out, I don’t know what would have happened. She probably thinks I’m one of you, now. She probably thinks I’m a “sister in the Project at Eden’s Gate”! I’m well and truly on my own now, aren’t I? You know I don’t believe in this bullshit. What am I supposed to do?”

John raised his eyes to meet her gaze and used her own words against her. “I was following orders,” he said. “I was just following through with what I’d been told. I didn’t – I _couldn’t_ know what would happen. The next thing I know, I have scores of men and women trying to kill me.” He chuckled bitterly. “Now the shoe is on the other foot, eh, Dep? Joseph told me to present you at Mass as our newest sister. To serve as a beacon – and a warning. I didn’t predict they would retaliate so quickly.”

She observed him quietly. He looked somehow older, hunched over on himself, his charisma and charm stripped away to reveal an overworked, broken man. “Joseph was not happy with my… lack of foresight.” He stood and turned his back to her, revealing six deep, fresh cuts marring the flesh on his back. “He had Jacob punish me for my sins.” He turned back to face her once more. “Have you met Jacob yet?” he asked brightly. “Charming fellow. Stay away from him if he’s holding a weapon.” he added bitterly. “Yes, I knew Hudson had escaped and _no_ , I didn’t tell you. But I also didn’t expect her to lead the charge in a fucking attack on Fall’s End, either. As for her thinking you’re part of the Project, of course you are. Why do you think you’re here? If Joseph didn’t want you to be part of the Project, he would have had you killed. No, he needs you.”

She stood staring at him, mouth agape, that familiar feeling of anger rising up inside her once more. “What’s the game here, exactly? Why is it so important to get me on your side, and away from the Resistance?” she asked him angrily.

He winced from the pain in his shoulder and shook his head. “I don’t know, Deputy.”

“I don’t believe you. Even if you _did_ know, you wouldn’t tell me.” she scoffed.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. “Perhaps not. But I’m being honest with you now - I don’t know what his plan is.” He looked at her steadily, the corners of his mouth turned down. He looked miserable, like a child that had been scolded.

Her anger subsided the longer she looked at him, and she softened her stance, closing her eyes briefly, knowing she was helpless here. “Do you need me to help with those wounds?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I will be fine. It was a suitable punishment for the crime.”

***

Over the few months that followed, John came and went frequently, running errands, holding sermons, listening to confessions and helping people _atone for their sins_. The deputy learned more about him, about his past as a lawyer, snippets from his childhood in Atlanta, how he’d used his wealth and knowledge of the law to assist Joseph in his mission, and she, in turn, had divulged details about her old life - her religious parents, her time in New York, her arrest of the mobster ( _“Bloody hell, Dep. I’d better watch my back.”_ he’d said jokingly). She felt like she was getting closer to him, and keeping her promise to his brother.

She still wasn’t allowed out of the Ranch grounds without him, and she was not allowed to handle a weapon. Security around the Ranch had been increased significantly since the attack on Fall’s End, in case the Resistance tried to come for her - but they hadn't. She often found herself worrying about Hudson, wondering if she’d made it out of Fall’s End safely, what she’d told the Resistance about what she'd seen in Fall's End, what they thought of her now. At first, the deputy had tried to get information out of John about them, like if they’d made a play for any of the Project’s resources, but he remained silent on the subject. She also couldn’t get any more information from him about why Joseph “needed” her - he either really didn’t know, or didn’t want to tell her.

She was slowly granted more liberties - the door to her room had been replaced and was no longer guarded, she could roam the grounds (as long as she had at least two people following her at all times) and even make her own food. She often found John making his way to her bed at night, always saying nothing, always ignoring it the following morning. It was the same every night - he’d slip in behind her in the middle of the night, pull her close, forcing her back to his chest, his arm around her waist, the full length of his body pressing against her from chest to toes. A few times in her sleepy haze, she thought she felt his lips on her shoulder, her neck, her ear, but he was still by the time she was awake enough to register what was happening.

As her mind wandered, she looked up from her book. He sat at the other end of the couch to her, also reading. She observed him silently, taking in his features. His pierced ear, trimmed beard, open shirt and scars peeking through. Her thoughts continued to roam, digging up memories of her life over the past few months in Holland Valley. The first thought that came to mind was a moment they’d shared a few weeks after the events at Fall’s End, on the Seed Ranch airstrip:

_She’d taken the radio from her room to the airstrip. She had tinkered with it using tools she found in the kitchen and got it to pick up more stations so she could listen to some other music. Setting it on the grass, she lay beside it, singing along to a rock song. She knew she was under the watchful eye of all of the Peggies that guarded the Ranch, but none approached her. There was a gentle breeze that blew the skirt of her dress about softly, so she tucked it between her thighs and then closed her eyes, flopping back onto the grass, one arm above her head, the other resting on her stomach. A shadow blocked the sun from her face, so she opened her eyes to find herself staring up at John. She watched him sit next to her head and lean back on his elbows, bringing his sunglasses down over his eyes._

_He raised one hand and patted his stomach, silently inviting her to rest her head on him. She hesitated before scooting back and resting her head on the place he’d touched, just above his hip. It still felt strange to share odd intimate moments with the man who kept her prisoner for months, especially when he wouldn’t address them when she asked - they’d just happen, but she couldn’t speak about them. To her surprise, he started humming along to the rock song on the radio._

_“Being in Hope County is a welcome change from Atlanta,” he mused. His eyes were closed and his head hung back, exposing his throat to the warm sun. “It’s quieter, it’s peaceful. The perfect place to await the end of the world.”_

_She'd sometimes forget that he'd had a life before the Project, so consumed was he the majority of the time with his work. She sat up and looked down at him. “How much of this do you actually believe?” she asked suspiciously._

_He sighed and raised his head to look at her. “I believe and trust in my brother. I read the news - I saw the looming threat of nuclear war. Every day, it was the same. “Tensions soar between the US and North Korea.” or “Russia threatens to retaliate if US interferes with whatever”. Every day it got worse, and every day no one did a fucking thing. I saw this as an opportunity to rid myself of the demons from my past, and help others do the same, while saving as many people as we could.” She scoffed at him. “I know it doesn’t look like helping from the outside. But for many of these people, we’ve helped free them from the burdens of their everyday lives. They now have a purpose, a sense of community, a larger family that love them and accept them with their flaws and their sins. When the Collapse comes, they’ll have a greater chance of survival, because we’ve helped them build that community before the confusion, before the terror. Put fear in them now, and they’ll be brave when the time comes. Tell me, how do_ you _feel now?” He sat up then, facing her._

 _This made her think, how_ did _she feel? Brother James had told her the same thing after the fallout at Fall’s End._ “We are building a community that will endure after the Collapse.” _She chose her words carefully. “Initially, I was afraid. How could I not be?” She held his gaze steadily. “I thought I was going to die alone in that cell. I thought you were going to torture me until I went mad.” He broke her gaze, did he look ashamed? “Now I feel lost. I have nowhere to go. I suppose I know too much about the Project for you to release me. If I try to leave, I’ll either die in my attempt, or I suspect the Resistance will turn against me if they haven’t already, and they’ll probably try to kill me because I’ve spent so much time here.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “I don’t know where I belong.”_

_“I’m sorry.” he said. He leaned his head forward and rested it on her shoulder. “But I had to make you see.”_

John was right. Slowly, she did start to see what they were doing. She didn’t agree entirely with their methods, but she saw firsthand the happiness of the people in the Project, the helpful, kind community they’d built. More frequently, she was accompanying him on outings outside the Ranch, mainly attending sermons around the valley and assisting with Cleansings, and felt a small sense of accomplishment in helping him change the way he handled confessions - at least the ones she attended. She smiled to herself as she thought back to the first Cleansing she’d witnessed.

_John stood in the river, water lapping around his knees, Book of Joseph in hand. Five residents of Hope County stood in the river facing him, each being held in place by a Peggie. The three men and two women looked scared - most of them had been beaten before she arrived._

_The deputy stood on the bank, watching silently as John finished his reading._

_“We must wash away our past. We must expose our sins. We must atone, for only then may we stand in the light of God, and walk through his Gate unto Eden.”_

_He handed the Book to one of the Peggie guards beside him and approached the first prisoner, smiling. “Are you ready to confess?” he asked the woman softly. She was crying and shaking in fear. She nodded apprehensively, before admitting to John that she had cheated on her husband. The guard who took his book handed him the tattoo gun, and the woman’s arm was forced out in front of her. John inked the word_ LUST _into her forearm before lowering her into the water. Still crying, the woman was led away to the river bank._

_John moved onto the next resident, a man in his 40s. He kicked water at John and started to shout obscenities at him. “Get away from me you son of a bitch!” he yelled, still thrashing about wildly. John, whose patience was thin at the best of times, reached to his holster for his pistol, declaring, “This one is not worthy!”_

_Before she could help herself, she was shouting, running into the water and sloshing her way to John, diving for his hand in an attempt to wrestle the gun from him. He lifted the gun out of her reach, looking at her with a mixture of surprise and mild annoyance._

_“He can still be saved!” she implored, moving to stand between John and the other man. She turned to him, placing her hands on the man’s bare shoulders, trying to ignore the word_ SINNER _that had been cut into his chest. “What’s your name?” she asked him softly._

_“Kyle,” he replied. “Kyle Miller, and that woman is my wife! I knew she cheated but I don’t care! I love her!”_

_The woman wailed from the bank, crying out for her husband. “Kyle,” the deputy said gently. “Your wife has confessed, and she will be safe at Eden’s Gate. If you really love her, then you will let us accept you into our family too. Please,” She moved her hands to cup his face. “Even if you don’t believe the Great Collapse is coming, surely you believe in your family, in your community?” He nodded. “Then let us help you. Lean back with me, and let the water wash away your sins. I’ll be right here beside you, okay? Brother James, could you help me?”_

_She moved to stand beside Kyle and took his hand. Brother James, she had learned, was John’s right-hand man, and was someone she’d grown to know well during her time at Seed Ranch. How he came to be so close to John she couldn’t tell - James was such a kind and gentle man, but he was often by John’s side, or watching over her in John’s absence. He came and stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, one hand on the small of her back. She looked at John steadily. He did not move, simply stood, watching her._

_“Okay Kyle,” she said, shifting her gaze to the man beside her, thinking of something she could confess to. “What do you wish to confess? When I first arrived in Hope County, I thought the Project was a threat to me. I killed a lot of their members because I thought it was the right thing to do, but I was wrong.” She felt Brother James squeeze her shoulder lightly as she said this._

_Kyle squeezed her hand. “I… I killed the man who slept with my wife,” he replied simply, eyes downcast._

 _She fought to keep her expression neutral, and smiled at him. “You will be forgiven. We won’t judge you. Are you ready?”_

_He nodded. Still holding onto his hand, she allowed Brother James to guide her backwards into the water. She relaxed as she did when John performed her Cleansing near Seed Ranch, letting the cool, calm water settle her nerves. Too soon she was pulled back up. She released Kyle’s hand and let him go back to his wife._

_She assisted John with the other three people at the Cleansing, confessing more of her sins to help them confess theirs. At the end of the ceremony, she stood shivering in the river. John put his coat around her shoulders and guided her to the bank, holding her hand._

The deputy smiled. He hadn’t used fear or intimidation to draw confessions from new recruits since then (to her knowledge), and she had helped with every Cleansing ceremony after that night, using her own methods to bring them into the Project. She felt was helping the people of Hope County and making a difference.

John's voice pulled her from her thoughts. “ _What?_ ” he asked, sounding frustrated. “Why are you staring at me?”

She jumped. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I wasn't really here.”

He closed his book and stood, rolling his eyes. “Well if you're _done_ staring at me, I'm going to bed.”

“Why do you even bother going to your room? You end up coming to see me anyway.” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop herself, and she pressed her fingers to her lips.

He looked down at her, one brow raised, before turning on his heel and making his way upstairs. She moved her hand from her mouth to her forehead, slapping herself a few times.

“You idiot,” she mumbled. Still kicking herself, she stood and headed up the stairs. His doors were closed, and she could hear his shower running. She quietly changed out of her clothes, stripping down to her panties and a tank top before crawling into bed and closing her eyes. _Well it looks like you’re sleeping alone tonight._ she thought. She’d grown used to him sleeping with her now after so many months, and found his presence both calming and comforting.

Despite her earlier outburst, John slid in beside her not long after she turned off the light - except this time, he didn’t grab her by the waist and pull her towards him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her to lie on her back and hovered over her briefly, propped up on one elbow, before lowering his face to be millimetres from hers. His breath was warm on her cheeks and the hand that was on her shoulder moved to rest on the mattress on the other side of her body. The deputy's heart drummed loudly in her ears. She could tell he was deliberating with himself, trying to decide what to do and so she made the decision for him, whispering a single word into the darkness.

“Yes.”

He groaned softly and shifted his body closer to her, pressing his lips to hers, gently at first, but with increasing vigour. His free hand moved from the mattress, settling on her hip, over the sin he’d carved into her flesh, his chest pressed hard up against hers, making it difficult for her to draw breath. One of her arms was pinned between her body and his, so she brought her free hand up to cup his cheek, then slide over his beard, down his neck. It travelled down past his collarbone and over his chest. She twirled her index finger in small circles around his nipple, which hardened under her touch. She then moved on to trace the scars of the word _SLOTH_ on his chest, carefully going over each line before trailing her finger down his side, over his naked hip.

She froze. Naked. He was naked, in her bed.

He tore his mouth from hers, breathing hard. “This isn’t right.” he panted. He pulled the cover from their bodies and stood up. In a matter of seconds, he had her out of the bed and in his arms. He sought her mouth again, carrying her towards the door.

He managed to pull it open and walked the short distance down to his quarters before depositing her onto his bed. It was much bigger than the one she’d been using, she noted briefly, before he seized her mouth again, settling himself between her thighs. She could feel him now, ready and yearning, pressing against her through her underwear. He started to kiss his way down her jaw, her throat, pressing kisses between her breasts through her tank top. He pushed the material to bunch up under her breasts when he got to her stomach and his lips found her skin once more, trailing down past her navel and across to the scar on her hip. He chuckled before running his tongue over the letters. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she brought her hand to rest on top of his head.

He looked up at her, the moonlight streaming through the window illuminating his face. “Don’t be so impatient,” he chided, before sliding further down. He placed his lips on the inside of her knee, trailing hot kisses up the inside of her thigh, creeping up at an agonisingly slow pace. He finally came to a stop between her legs. She could feel his breath through the thin fabric of her underwear. He nudged her gently with his nose.

“Yes.” she breathed.

His mouth was on her in an instant, his tongue pushing against her through the fabric as if he could tear through it. She raised her hips slightly to meet his mouth and he pulled away, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties and yanking them down over her hips and off completely. He threw them over his shoulder and before she could register what was happening, his mouth was on her again, his tongue circling her clit several times before dipping down to her entrance and sliding back up deliciously. She moaned involuntarily, arching her back, pressing her heels into the bed to raise her hips up against his demanding mouth. He continued his assault on her, alternating between sucking on her clit and drawing circles around it with his tongue. He brought a fingertip up to her entrance, but seemed to change his mind and left it hovering, just out of her reach.

“John,” she breathed. “Please.”

This made him stop completely. He pulled back, resting his cheek on the inside of her thigh. She could feel his shaky breath on her skin, his beard scratching her gently as he moved.

She sat up, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you o-” she started but was interrupted when he reached for her shirt and started to pull it up over her head. Once it was off he pressed her back down onto the bed and cupped one breast in his hand, while taking her other nipple into his mouth. His beard was damp against her skin and she closed her eyes, enjoying the comforting feeling of his weight on top of her. She reached down between their bodies with the intention of pleasuring him with her hand, but he stopped her.

“Not yet,” he said thickly, catching her hand. He twined his fingers with hers and pressed her hand back into the mattress, repositioning himself on top of her. He settled down to lean on his other arm, his hand slipping under her neck. He kissed her again, and she could taste herself on his lips, taste her desire for him. She raised her hips to him and shivered as his erection nudged her. He shifted his hips, he was so close to taking her, but was waiting. Waiting for her to say his favourite word. She leaned up, pressing her mouth against his ear.

“Yes.”

His eyes closed as he sunk into her, his head dropping to her neck as he filled her. She cried out, her free arm around his back, hand resting on his shoulder blade, her pinned hand gripping his fingers tightly. She brought her legs up to hook around his waist, giving him better access to her and he sunk into her deeper, pressing his face into her neck, moaning involuntarily. They lay still for a moment, adjusting to one another, before he withdrew slightly, then plunged back into her. He was slow and steady initially, but as his desire grew he became rougher, pressing her deeper into the mattress. He released her hand, moving his other hand beneath her shoulder. He hooked both hands over her shoulders and started to pull her down onto him harder, placing a few uneven kisses on her mouth, but soon buried his face in her neck again, eyes squeezed shut.

Her eyes rolled back as she brought her other arm around him, hand resting on his lower back, and let the pleasure consume her. She was mesmerised by the way he filled and stretched her, the feeling of him sliding in and out of her, the way he seemed to grind against her clit. She relished the sound of his laboured breathing in her ear, the soft, breathy moans he’d make every so often when he plunged into her.

She started to feel her orgasm building and gripped him tighter, digging her nails into his back. This spurred him on and he increased his pace. It became too much and she cried out, her muscles clamping down around him, spasming, making her body tremble as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. He followed her not long after, pinning her hips to the mattress as he spilled himself into her, his face still buried in the nape of her neck, using her throat to muffle his moan of completion.

He settled his weight on top of her, both of them breathing heavily, neither daring to move. Eventually, she turned her head to kiss his cheek, stroking the back of his neck gently.

“Yes.” she whispered into the dark.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dep is given a mission.
> 
>  **Warning:** Smut _and_ knife play. Oof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much again for your wonderful and encouraging comments! I really didn't expect this to take off like it did.
> 
> <3

She was warm. She was safe. She was in a bed that was _far_ too big. Where was she? Why couldn’t she move her arms?

The deputy slowly opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was endless blue. John was looking down at her bemusedly, his face inches from hers. She glanced up and realised her hands were cuffed above her head.

“Good morning,” he said quietly. “How did you sleep?”

Memories of the previous evening came flooding back to her and she felt the blood rising in her cheeks. “Fine,” she replied evenly, then frowned at him. “Before I woke up cuffed to the bed. _Why_ am I cuffed to the bed, exactly?” He moved, kneeling on the mattress beside her so she could see him. Her eyes widened - he was still naked - but what caught her attention were the new, shiny, lightly bleeding cuts of the word _LUST_ etched into his right thigh. “What did you do?” she gasped.

“Even by Joseph’s book, what we did was a sin, Dep,” he replied coolly, straddling her hips and reaching behind him. “So I took it upon myself to atone for that sin. Now it’s your turn.” She started to struggle but gave up quickly. Her hands were stuck fast, and he was too heavy for her to budge. He produced his flip knife. “Do you remember, in the river, not long after you arrived in Hope County, Joseph said that you will reach atonement, or the gates of Eden shall be shut to me?” She nodded. He waved his hand dramatically in front of his body. “Well, this is how we atone for our sins. And as a sister of the Project at Eden’s Gate, you are no exception.”

“I don’t think that’s what he meant. I’m pretty sure what he meant was that if I kept going down the path I was on I’d probably kill yo-” she started to protest, but he placed a finger on her lips. She frowned. _That’s still a possibility, jackass._ she thought.

John shook his head at her and shifted himself down from her hips to her thighs, the tip of the knife pressing into the skin near her left hip. She closed her eyes and prepared for pain, as he brought his other hand to rest on her waist. His hand was warm, and that warmth seemed to seep into her very bones. She hummed softly, enjoying his touch, before the knife pierced her skin, making a small, shallow vertical cut. She screwed up her nose and heard his breath catch in his throat as he dug his fingers into her waist a little firmer. He brought the knife to her skin again, making another shallow cut, horizontal this time. _L._ His hand moved from her hip to her breast, massaging gently, countering the pain from the knife.

The deputy exhaled shakily, unaware she’d been holding her breath, trying to concentrate on anything but the stinging sensation on her abdomen. The knife sliced her again, another vertical line. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, tugging at her gently. Another horizontal line. His hand moved down her body, stroking the side of her hip and stopped on top of her thigh. Another vertical line. _U._ John blew gently onto the new wounds, making her squirm beneath him.

She pressed her hips back into the mattress, trying in vain to shield the cuts from him. He fidgeted then, repositioning himself so he was lying between her legs, his face closer to her stomach. He pressed two gentle kisses on either side of the cuts, making a soft noise as she quivered beneath his touch. She could feel his laboured breath on her skin as he started the next cuts, the warmth of his chest between her thighs, so close to touching her yet so far away. His hand moved to stroke the inside of her thigh as he worked. She closed her eyes and moaned involuntarily. _S._

The pain from the knife was unpleasant but tolerable, not unlike the other cuts he’d inflicted in the bunker, but his touch was almost too much for her to take. Every time he moved his hand, the sensation seemed to travel up between her legs, and she cursed her body for betraying her. _Two to go,_ she thought. _Only two cuts to go, and this will be over._ But a part of her didn’t want it to be over. With every drag of the knife, he'd counter it with a touch closer to where she wanted him, or press his lips to her skin. She felt her cheeks flush with shame and embarrassment as the knife scored her flesh once more and his hand moved slowly upward to her core, making her tremble in anticipation. The knife ran across her skin one last time and she craned her neck, putting her head back as he finally touched her, the same time the knife made its final sweep. _T._

She cried out as his tongue swept across the cuts he’d made, fingers pressing into her roughly. He moved up to bring his face level with hers, fingers still twisting and pressing between her legs, before he kissed her hungrily, biting her bottom lip. “Look at me,” he instructed. She turned her head and tried to focus on him through heavy lids. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you, Deputy?” She nodded. “I said, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?” He curled his fingers up quickly, pulling up towards her navel.

She gasped and arched her back. “Yes!”

He removed his fingers and positioned himself over her to take her again. “Good,” he growled, low in her ear. He pressed himself against her and-

There was a knock at the door. “John!” a male voice said urgently from the other side.

His face grew dark, annoyed. “What is it? I told you I was not to be disturbed today. No one is permitted to enter the house.”

“Yes, sir. John. Sir John.” The man tripped over his words. “Yes John, but it’s important. Father is here, and Brother Jacob. They are waiting for you downstairs.”

His face changed instantly, his desire and annoyance melting away, leaving him with a cold, blank expression. “Thank you, I will be down momentarily.” He turned to look down at her. “This will have to wait,” he muttered, reaching for the keys to the cuffs and setting her free. She watched him get out of the bed and walk towards the wardrobe, rubbing her wrists. She sat up gingerly, looking down at the wounds he’d inflicted on her. They were bleeding lightly. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Hurry up, get dressed.” John commanded, zipping up his jeans.

“I _can’t_ get dressed,” she hissed at him. “My clothes are in the other room and I’ll be seen leaving your room in my underwear if they’re downstairs!”

He paused, the buttons on his shirt only half done. He reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a white t-shirt and a pair of black women’s jeans. _Son of a bitch._ He threw them on the bed. “There,” he said impatiently, grabbing a vest from the cupboard.

“How long have I been asking you for jeans?” she asked, annoyed.

He smirked at her. “I’ve had these the whole time. Maybe I just liked seeing you in a dress? If you don’t want them I can always put them back...” He reached forward to pick the garments up. She glared at him and moved to get out of the bed.

He watched her as she disentangled herself from the sheets and walked to pick up her underwear, before he stepped towards her and reached out, cupping her face with his hands. He leaned down, placed a chaste kiss on her lips and moved away from her again. Her breath caught in her throat and she stood naked before him, staring at him dumbly, before remembering she was supposed to be getting dressed. She threw the clothes on hurriedly, tucking the t-shirt into her jeans and wincing as the rough material touched the cuts on her abdomen. He opened the door and turned his head to her.

“Hurry up, Deputy,” he drawled. “You mustn’t keep the Father waiting.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and let him steer her from the room and down the stairs. Joseph Seed sat in one of the armchairs, and Jacob Seed stood next to him, six feet of pure muscle and ready to kill at a moment's notice. She stared at the scars on his arms. _Jesus Christ,_ she thought. _Has he dipped his arms in a vat of acid?_ John bowed his head to Joseph, and yanked her down to bow too.

“Show respect to your Shepherd.” he said to her.

Joseph raised his hand, motioning for them to sit. “I apologise, John. I understand we have come by without warning. Please, sit.”

They sat on the couch next to Joseph. Jacob would not sit with them, looking like he was about to pounce on the next person to enter the room and tear their larynx from their throat.

“How may I assist you, Joseph?” John asked evenly.

“The Resistance is gaining traction around Henbane River, disrupting your sister’s operations,” Joseph replied. His face and tone were impossible to read, just the same cool, calm demeanour he always seemed to maintain - but she couldn’t help but feel uneasy, as if there was a storm within him, threatening to break free at any second and destroy everything in its path. “I would like you to accompany the Deputy to Henbane River and have her meet with the Resistance leaders. She was once one of theirs, she knows them well, and may be able to show them the light. We would prefer to have them on our side than against us.” He smiled at her warmly then. “Will you do that, Deputy?”

 _Meet with the Resistance leaders? Who are they?_ She nodded once. “Of course,” she replied, and then added, “Father.”

Joseph’s smile widened. “Excellent. John, can you leave tonight?”

John nodded. “Yes, Joseph.”

“Thank you, John.” Joseph said, standing. John stood too. “I will leave you briefly to prepare for your travel, while I borrow the young Deputy here.”

He held his hand out to her. She took it, got to her feet, and allowed herself to be lead outside, purposefully not looking back at John. He offered her his arm, and she threaded her arm through it. They walked in silence for a while, away from the house and the guards.

“How is your little project going?” he asked her.

“My project?” she asked, momentarily confused. “Oh… with John. Very well, I think. He seems calmer, at least when I’m around. I can’t comment on how he treats others when I’m not there.” She contemplated her last few months with him. She hadn’t seen _him_ hurt anyone (but her) recently, but _he_ had been hurt, the first night he came to her bed. She gathered her courage. “But I have seen him hurt. After the incident in Fall’s End, he returned with cuts on his back. He said they were inflicted by Jacob.”

Joseph did not respond immediately. “He was careless, and that was his punishment. But that is something you will learn about, in time.” he finally replied, his words slow and deliberate. He stopped and turned to face her, then leaned forward, his face millimetres from her neck. He inhaled deeply. “I can smell him on you,” he drawled softly. “You reek of him, you glow with his light.”

She froze like a deer in headlights. How could he know?

He reached out and gently touched her stomach, just above the fresh cuts. She looked down to see faint, blotchy blood stains seeping through the thin material of her shirt - she hadn’t realised it had ridden up slightly during their walk. She looked back at him, trying to think up an excuse, but she couldn’t. “The Lord presented me with a vision,” he continued, pulling away slightly and reaching out, grasping a tendril of her hair. “I saw John die young. I saw him die old. And you, my child, you were his saviour.” He kissed the strands of hair in his hand before tucking them behind her ear. “I knew I had to put you in his path, to prevent him from being slain by his own sin.”

She looked at him, bewildered. “Why me?”

He simply smiled knowingly and turned towards the house, and she followed, mind reeling. He said nothing else. She entered the house after him and watched him walk through to the kitchen. Standing awkwardly in front of the fireplace, she looked down at her shirt again, mentally slapping herself for not thinking to put something over the top of the cuts before getting dressed, and cursing John for giving them to her in the first place.

The three of them returned to the room, and she noticed the dark stain of blood just visible on the thigh of John’s jeans. Jacob was the first to speak. “A convoy will escort you to Henbane River,” he said matter-of-factly, handing her a radio scanner. “If for any reason you need to contact us, use this. We will all hear your message – Joseph, John, Faith and myself.” She reached out and took the device. “Once you get there, your mission is to go to the Hope County Jail and meet with Sheriff Whitehorse - he seems to be calling the shots. He’s got two options - join the Project, or leave Hope County. If he chooses neither, I’ll have the place torn apart. I will escort Joseph back to his home. John will contact us when you have arrived safely.”

 _Whitehorse?_ He’d been nothing but kind to her when she joined his team. She had to try and save him. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Good.”

She looked at John, but she couldn’t read him - he was distant and expressionless. “Go and pack some clothes,” he barked, before walking out with his brothers.

She narrowed her eyes at his retreating back before turning and walking upstairs. There was a small suitcase waiting for her, big enough to pack all the (few) clothes she’d been provided. She zipped it up and hauled it downstairs, mentally preparing for her trip to Henbane River.

***

John had decided to drive his own truck, and Brother James was on the mounted gun in the tray. The convoy was comprised of five vehicles, two in front of their car, and two behind. He hadn’t spoken to her more than necessary since that morning. They’d been driving for a half hour before he spoke.

“Have you experienced Bliss yet?” he finally asked.

The deputy thought back to the shrines Dutch directed her to destroy, with their green mist. She remembered the way it seemed to warp her vision and her hearing, like she was being pulled from her body to another plane. “Kind of. I encountered it briefly at a couple of shrines, but I blew them up,” she replied simply.

He laughed. “Jesus Christ, we’re not even married and I can see you taking all my money. I guess I’ll have to organise to have them rebuilt.”

She shot him a sly look. “Give me your bank details so I can have the feds empty your accounts, then you won’t have to worry about it.” she shot back jokingly.

He scoffed. “Do you really want to go back to that life, Dep?”

She was taken aback. _Did_ she? Her old life seemed so long ago now. A job she found moderately fulfilling, a lonely apartment in a dirty street, a boyfriend she didn’t love. She’d had conflicting thoughts since she was told she would be meeting Whitehorse again. She'd considered using this as a chance to escape, rejoin with her friends, rejoin the Resistance. But there were two problems with that: the Resistance would expect her to kill innocent Project members as they did before. She couldn’t do that now she knew them, knew what kind of people they were. She pictured herself standing over Brother James as he bled out, looking at her in shock as he realised she’d betrayed him. She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t. The Resistance almost looked like the enemy, now. What would going back to them achieve, apart from more anguish and bloodshed?

The other reason, she hated to admit, was that she would miss John. He annoyed the almighty hell out of her. He challenged her. She felt like she finally understood why he mistreated her initially - she was threatening his people, his family, _of course_ he was going to retaliate. It wasn’t much different to what the Resistance were doing, gunning down any Project members they saw. What would John do if she re-joined the Resistance? What would _she_ do?

“Deputy?” he asked, pulling her from her musings.

She shook her head, reaching for the console to turn on the radio. She wasn't prepared to have that conversation with him at that moment. “How about some music?” she asked, trying to discourage him from asking her more questions. _Oh John_ was playing. “Oh John, bold and brave, he’s finding us a family, he’s teaching us the faith!” she sang along somewhat sarcastically and deliberately off-key, clearly making him uncomfortable.

Eventually the song ended, and she returned to her thoughts. “I really _am_ part of this now, aren’t I?” she asked him softly, leaning her head against the cold glass of the car window and looking out into the dark.

He glanced at her briefly. “Yes,” he said. “You are really part of ‘this’. You know there’s more to it than fucking me, don’t you?”

She snorted, screwing up her face. “Yeah, I totally got captured so I could get laid,” she replied sarcastically. “I saw you in that church when I went to arrest your brother and thought to myself, “Well, there’s a fine piece of ass, I’ll break into his home and get captured _just_ so I can screw him.” I went through all that pain and loneliness and…” She paused, taking a deep breath, ignoring the hard stare he was giving her. “And I agree with you, to a degree. I concede you’re helping people, having seen it for myself. I still don’t agree with all of your methods, but on the small chance we _do_ find ourselves in the midst of nuclear war, maybe recruiting people now and strengthening them isn’t such a bad idea.”

“There’s another ‘but’ in there.” he said flatly.

“I miss my team,” she shrugged. “I just want them to be safe. I don’t want to be their enemy.”

John said nothing for the remainder of the trip.

The car came to a stop at a small compound close to dawn. He turned the car off and jumped out, conversing with men from the lead truck in the convoy. She got out of the car too, peering around in the dark. From what she could see there were five small houses and one garage, surrounded by a high fence with barbed wire on the top. There were two entrances, and two cars from the convoy parked at each gate. No getting in or out.

“Deputy!” he called from one of the small houses in the compound. She turned to see him beckoning her over. She walked over to him. “We’ll be staying here tonight, and tomorrow we’ll go to the jail.“ He stepped into the building and she followed him in. There was a small lounge area and kitchenette, and a bathroom and bedroom behind that. Brother James had brought their bags in for them, and she entered the kitchenette again as he was walking away from the building with John. The bags weren’t heavy, so she pulled them into the bedroom and opened hers up.

She settled in, hanging up clothes, while John checked the security of the compound with Brother James and contacted his brother. She felt apprehensive about what was expected of her over the coming days. What did she have to do? She pictured it in her head.

_“Oh yes, I’m fine!” she smiled brightly at a concerned citizen. “Praise be to the Father!”_

_“The Great Collapse is coming! Confess your sins so you may be saved and join the Father at Eden's Gate!”_

_“Sheriff I’m fine, I’ve never been happier!” she smiled as she wrapped her arms around John’s waist, dressed as a housewife from the 1950s._

She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she stepped into the shower. “Don’t be an idiot,” she muttered to herself. “They’ll never believe you.”

“Who won’t believe you?” John asked from behind her. She jumped in surprise and pressed herself against the shower wall in an attempt to shield herself from his gaze. She turned her head to see him standing behind her, naked as the day he was born. And _very_ excited to see her. “Pick your jaw up from the floor, Dep.”

She closed her eyes to try and clear her head. He stepped forwards, pinning her against the tiled wall, then brought his mouth to her ear and leaned his body into hers, making her shiver. He started to kiss his way from her ear and down her spine, before straightening up again.

She turned to face him and reached up, cupping his face in her hands and pulling his mouth down to hers. She allowed him to explore her body, his hands sliding over her wet skin. He cradled the back of her head as he kissed her, the water from the shower trickling down between them. His other hand slowly made its way from her breast to between her legs, gently rubbing her clit with his index finger. She moaned into his mouth and wrapped one hand around his cock, teasing him with long, firm strokes, making him curse her under his breath. His impatience got the better of him and he turned off the water before leading her to the bed.

As he slid into her again, she closed her eyes and thought that perhaps this new life wasn’t too bad after all.

***

“You still haven’t told me your name, you know.” he said quietly, turning over to face her and draping his leg over her thighs.

“I know,” she said. “I told Brother James that it doesn’t matter what my name is, because I’m not that person anymore.”

He moved his head to look at her. The room was dimly lit by the light that was left on in the bathroom, and she could see him smirking. “Indulge me,” he commanded. “I feel like we know each other pretty well now, don’t you? Giving me your name won’t hurt.”

He was right, of course. He’d spent the last hour exploring just about every inch of her body, it seemed only fair to give him her name. She pursed her lips. “Fine,” she conceded, not meeting his gaze and inhaling deeply. “My name… is Mercy.”

The air in the room was heavy, all she could hear was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, and then he laughed. He laughed hard, for a long time, rolling onto his back and doubling over, tears streaming down his face onto the pillow. She watched him, embarrassed, eventually starting to laugh nervously herself.

He calmed down enough to speak. “You’re not serious?” he asked, looking at her and wiping a tear from his eye.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I am.”

He started laughing again, eventually sitting up so he could breathe easier. He looked at her, still grinning. “That’s just perfect,” he smiled. “Living up to your name, aren’t you? _Mercy._ ”

She shook her head and turned away from him, lying on her side. The mattress was jostled slightly as he lay down behind her again, arm coming around her waist in a familiar, comforting way. He brought his lips to brush the shell of her ear, and quoted a phrase from the bible:

“But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” He moved and pressed his lips to the side of her throat. “And I do desire Mercy.”


	10. John II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back in John's head.
> 
> Is there any point in the smut warnings now? You know what you're reading ;)

John couldn’t sleep, but he could never sleep during the day. The sun had come up a couple of hours ago and he lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, his left arm straight out next to him. Mercy’s head lay on his bicep, facing towards him, her hand on his chest and her leg resting on his. She was finally asleep. He looked down at her, the corners of his mouth twisting up. _Mine._

He tried not to chuckle again as he thought back to her revealing her name. It was serendipitous. It was too perfect. _Mercy._ He’d laughed long and hard, not believing her at first, wondering perhaps if the God his brother worshipped was playing a cruel prank on him. But she was serious, and she was merciful, forgiving him for the horrors he’d put her through, the horrors he now felt a twinge of regret over.

He was trying not to worry about what the following day would bring. What would she do when she saw her people again? Would she just run to them and not look back? Would she try and attack him? Of course, he wasn’t going to give her a gun – he wanted to trust her, but he couldn’t completely. Not yet.

 _“Let her take control of the situation,”_ Joseph had told him earlier that day. _“Let this be a test.”_

Test for what? For her loyalty? Test the Resistance to see what they’ll do? He knew Jacob still had one of her team up in the Whitetail mountains, whatever his name was. The only thing he remembered was Jacob describing his captive as ‘cute’. He didn’t want to know what that meant.

He tried to distract himself by thinking about how much he’d changed over the last few months. How much _she_ had changed him. He was surprised at the effect she’d had on him – he always considered himself a man whom nothing could surprise. He’d seen it all. He’d experienced it all. All of the pain and suffering he’d endured throughout his life had given him the tools to build an impenetrable wall around himself. Nothing could shock him – except her.

She wriggled in her sleep and pulled closer to him, her hand moving from his chest to his shoulder, her face turned up to his slightly. He fought off the urge to kiss her ( _She needs to sleep._ ), so he recalled their first kiss in the river all those months ago.

He thought she was trying to escape when he saw her running on the airstrip - it's not like the fence was secure. Something in him snapped, and he jumped on the quad bike, racing to try and catch her. The embarrassment he felt when he realised she was just going for a run, finally enjoying being outdoors after three months in captivity, quickly turned into anger (at himself, for being so stupid). But, John being John, he lost control. He vaguely remembered killing the guards that were supposed to be watching her before taking her to the river to Cleanse her properly. He'd planned on making a show of it to the Project, but some irrational part of his brain said that if he did it straight away, she couldn't leave. He watched her relax as he held her under the water, her hair floating around her face dreamily, and for the first time since joining his brother’s Project he gave into his desires, and he kissed her.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the kiss.

_How she looked when he pulled her from the water. The way the drops of water trickled down from her hair, over her face, down her neck and disappeared under the neckline of her dress. The feeling of her heartbeat under his palm. The way her lips felt against his as he kissed her. Her arms encircling his torso, pressing her body against his. The anger and shame he’d felt afterwards._

It was the first time he’d kissed a woman in years, sober at that, and _god_ it felt good. Despite her initial hesitation, she returned the kiss and he had to stop himself before it went any further, feeling anger at his lack of control rising within him. He’d taken that anger out on his lamp.

John yawned, thoughts moving onto the day he took her to Fall’s End for Mass, and the shitshow that followed the service. How he’d told her to get into the helicopter to serve as a distraction, so he could get away safely by car. He'd made the mistake of going to Joseph's compound that day and was once again made to pay for his error in judgement, by means of six deep cuts in his back. He was exhausted and in pain by the time he got back to the Ranch, and as he undressed in his room, that's when he realised he needed her.

_He tossed his bloody shirt on the bed and sighed. For the first time he disagreed with Joseph that punishment was required, how could he have known the people of Fall’s End would retaliate so swiftly? How could be possibly know that Hudson was going to lead an attack on the town that day? He needed to do something to take his mind off the pain, and because he had neither drugs nor alcohol at his disposal, he went for the next best thing – a warm body. He just wanted to hold her, to feel the comfort of having someone near. He stalked out of his room to the guards outside her door._

_“Get out.” he hissed, and watched them scramble out of the house before he stepped into her room, approached the bed and slid smoothly in behind her._

_He didn't want her looking at him, so snaked his arm around her waist to hold her still. It was her sleepy voice, tiredly calling out his name, that brought him undone. He couldn't reply, only pull her against him harder and try not to let his emotions spill over, but he failed miserably. He held her and cried silently, and she didn't say anything, just put her hand on his gently and let him hold her._

He expected that to be the only time, as it showed her his weakness, made him vulnerable. But she hadn’t rejected him and didn’t say anything, so he did it again a few nights later. Then a couple of nights after that. And then the night after that. Night after night, he’d slip into bed with her, hold her close to his body, and sleep, properly sleep, not plagued by worries or nightmares. He found peace and calm with her, something he hadn’t felt in years, and he didn’t want to let that go.

Eventually the deputy tried asking him about it on a few occasions, but he wouldn’t answer her, mostly because he didn’t know how to put into words what he was feeling, but partly because he didn’t quite trust her yet, and didn’t want her to exploit his weakness to the Resistance, should she escape. But she didn’t seem to want to escape. She never tried, not once, and that made him suspicious. Was she planning something else?

Jacob clearly felt the same way, based on the conversation they’d had in John’s kitchen while Joseph ‘borrowed’ Mercy.

_”Do you think she’s trustworthy?” Jacob asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed._

 _John shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. She hasn’t shown any desire to leave-”_

_“Is that because you’re distracting her with other desires?” Jacob raised a brow. “Doesn’t your song mention becoming strong if you’re free of all desire? Are you allowing her to make you weak?”_

_“What?”_

_Jacob looked at him bemusedly. “She forgot to put her bra on.”_

_John considered his brother for a moment, before pointing to his thigh. “We’ve both paid for it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”_

_His brother shrugged and raised his hands, palms facing towards John. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried you’re straying from our mission. You do what you want, little brother, but remember the example you’re setting for the flock. And if she goes back to the Resistance, I’ll kill her myself.” He crossed his arms again. “What does she know about the Resistance?”_

_He shook his head. It seemed every conversation he had with Jacob ended up with him reminding John that he was the youngest and the weakest in their family. Every. Damn. Time. “Nothing, other than Hudson is no longer in Faith’s care. She doesn’t know about Whitehorse, the Marshal or the guy you’ve got up in the Mountains.”_

_Jacob closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly. “Ah, Faith is_ so _mad that woman escaped. I think she was really starting to like her. As for the other one, he’s a good pup. I don’t plan on letting him go any time soon.” He looked at John again. “Joseph wants her to talk to Whitehorse, try and get him on our side. If he doesn’t join, his only other option is to leave. If he doesn’t leave, I’ll destroy the prison.”_

_John considered his brother. “Is there another option? Pump Bliss into the air vents, try and sedate them?” He doubted she was going to like any of those options, and he wanted to try and keep her on his side._

_“Nope.” Jacob replied simply. “They’re really fucking things up in Henbane River. Joseph’s had enough. Figures she might do better at negotiating with them than we were.”_

He hoped she was. The mission was to save as many people as they could. They had the space. They had the provisions. But the Resistance was really starting to put a dent in their plans, and they had to be stopped. Whitehorse had taken the position of leader in their camp, and Mercy knew him, so the hope was she could convince him to stand down. She moved again, rolling onto her back, frowning and pushing the blanket down to her stomach. 

“No,” she mumbled. “No stop, stop. Earl, please. _Don’t._ ” 

He turned to face her and put his hand on her cheek. She relaxed immediately and was still again. He reached down and pulled the blanket back up, his hand coming to rest on one of her breasts, feeling her chest rise and fall under his touch. Her breathing quickened and she spoke again. If he hadn’t heard the words before, he wouldn’t have caught what she said: 

“Why do you even bother going to your room?” 

He bit his tongue, trying not to laugh. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about?” he whispered sarcastically. He knew of course, because she’d asked him that same question the previous night. 

_“Why do you even bother going to your room, you end up coming to see me anyway.”_

_Mercy was right, of course. John always ended up in her bed - he never spoke of it though, preferring to ignore the elephant in the room. He found comfort in her bed at night, and he'd done it so often it was habit. He’d wanted so many times to just take her as they lay in that bed together, but knew doing so would destroy the trust he had established. It was getting harder though to be so close to her, night after night, and not tell her how he felt, to not show her how much he wanted her. He considered_ not _going to see her, just to spite her, but he couldn’t keep away. As he turned on the shower, he made a decision. He waited until she'd gone to bed before he went to her room. He needed to know if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He didn't care if it was a sin - he would gladly take punishment for this._

_So he found himself in her bed once more, this time turning her to face him and leaning down to kiss her. He stopped himself, debating whether this was the right decision after all - what if she rejected him? But then she said that one word he needed to hear._

_“Yes.”_

_Finally, he could kiss her again after so many months of restraint, and she returned the kiss immediately, without hesitation. He tried being patient and gentle with her, he tried to take his time, but his desire and his excitement got in the way and soon he was kissing her hard, his free hand moving to hold her hip and he was pressing his chest against hers, pinning her beneath him. She didn’t try and fight him off though, instead running her hand down the side of his body, leaving a burning trail in his skin where she’d touched him. He felt her freeze when she realised he was naked, and he stopped too, suddenly annoyed with himself. He wasn’t going to bed her for the first time in his_ guest room _. No, it would be in his bed, where she belonged._

_So he ripped the blanket from the bed and scooped her up in his arms to take her to his room. He practically threw her onto the bed and pounced on her, covering her mouth with his and pressing his hips into hers. Slowly, he started kissing his way down her body from her jaw to her stomach, when she placed her hand on the top of his head._

 _“Don’t be so impatient,” he’d said, but really he was saying that to himself, for it was taking all of his self-control to not rip off her underwear. He continued on his journey, all the way down to her knee, before making his way back up the inside of her thigh. He stopped and closed his eyes, waiting, but nudged her when she didn’t say anything._

_“Yes.”_

_His mouth was on her before she’d finished the word, pressing his tongue against her soaking underwear. She raised her hips up to him and he pulled back enough to remove the garment before hastily going back to her, this time without any hesitation. She was hot, and wet, and sweet and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her hips pressing up against him every so often, listening to her uneven breathing._

_He wanted to touch her, badly, and considered slipping his index finger into her, but then thought better of it. It needed to be him inside her, not his fingers. But she’d already felt his hand there and begged him to touch her._

_“John, please.”_

_Those two words nearly did him in. He pulled away, resting his cheek on her thigh, fighting for control of his body._ Calm down you idiot, you’re acting like a horny teenager. _She sat up and started to ask him if he was okay, and he used the opportunity to pull her shirt from her body, removing the last piece of her clothing and throwing it on the floor._

_His mind was foggy with need and lust, and he could taste her on his lips as he crawled back up her body and sucked her nipple into his mouth. When she reached to take him in her hand, he'd pushed her hand away. He needed to be inside her, he couldn’t wait any longer. So he positioned his hips between her thighs and stopped. It had been so many years, what if he couldn’t handle it?_

_“Yes.”_

_His doubts were pushed from his mind when she said that. He pressed himself into her and was taken aback by how_ good _he felt. He buried his face in her neck and was still, just enjoying the feeling of being close to her. Mercy shifted her legs, bringing them around his hips and he pushed in further, biting his tongue as she gasped, that small sound threatening to push him over the edge too soon. He finally calmed down enough to move, rutting against her gently, trying to control his lust. It was pointless, of course - she made soft noises beneath him, spurning him on, making it impossible to be gentle and eventually he was driving into her and she was breathing hard, moaning softly, head back and eyes closed, lips parted in the most inviting way. He kissed her, he tried to kiss her, the motions of their bodies making it awkward, his hands under her shoulders, pulling her body down to meet him. Suddenly she clamped down around him, crying out as she came, came_ for him _, and he couldn't help but follow, spilling himself into her, holding her body to his tightly._

_He stayed there for a long time, in awe of the feeling of her breath on his shoulder, her heart beating hard against his chest, the way her hands caressed his back, the way she twitched as aftershocks of pleasure took hold of her body. It was then, he realised, that he was in too deep. He couldn’t let her go._

He tore himself from his lustful memory, swallowing hard. She’d turned away from him and found her pillow again, so he carefully got out of bed, pulled on his jeans and went outside. Brother James was out there too, despite not being on guard. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked Brother James. The sun shone brightly overhead and warmed his skin. 

“No, it’s too bright,” he replied, smirking at John. “What’s your excuse?” 

John shot him a warning look, but couldn’t repress his smile. “The same as you,” he said carefully. “And I’m worried.” 

Brother James nodded, he didn't have to ask why. “I don’t think you need to be as worried as you are,” he shrugged. “The Father obviously trusts her. She may not agree with us completely, but she’s built trust within our community. She’s earned the respect and forgiveness of our people. She’s helped _you_. That is a miracle in itself.” He chuckled then. 

“You’ve noticed too, huh?” John asked him. 

“We’ve all noticed, John. She’s doing good work here.” 

They stood in silence for a while, and eventually, Mercy came outside and stood with them. She looked as worried as he felt. Silently, she reached for his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder, looking towards the road. He looked down at the top of her head, her red hair glistening in the sun, and squeezed her hand. She _was_ doing good work for the Project, and she had helped him. He just hoped she’d remember that when she was back with her people tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In too deep." Ay-ooo!
> 
> I'll see myself out.


	11. Chapter 11

Sleep did not come easily, as Mercy tried to imagine what would happen at the jail the following day. She wanted to see the torture end. She wanted to see the people of Hope County freed. But she struggled with the notion of freedom now. Each side defined it differently. Mercy defined it as happiness. She couldn’t deny the feelings of happiness and contentment she got from helping people - _really_ helping people. That made _her_ feel free. And at the end of it all, she was struggling to come to terms with her feelings for John, knowing full well that being with him meant being in the Project. But she had fallen asleep eventually, her dreams jumbled and twisted.

_She stood outside the prison with John, alone, without any backup. They were faced with an army of Resistance fighters, Whitehorse front and centre, looking at them through narrowed eyes._

_“Get ‘em.”_

_There was confusion as the Resistance charged at them. John grabbed her hand and tried to pull her away, but he was punched in the jaw by someone and he dropped her hand before falling to the ground. She tried to go to him, but the dream changed and she found herself inside a prison cell, restrained by one of the Resistance fighters, while John was chained to the wall opposite. Blood dripped down his face from his nose, and his shirt was gone, revealing deep cuts through all of his scars and tattoos._

_Whitehorse turned from John and wiped the bloody knife he was holding on his pant leg. He smiled at her and tore her shirt open to reveal her tattoo._

_“Your turn, kid.” he said, pressing the tip of the knife to her skin next to the ‘W’. “We’ll get you away from that cult, you’ll see.”_

_She started to struggle against her captor, who was holding her upper arms, trying to put her hands up to protect herself. “No,” she pleaded, fruitlessly trying to swat the knife away. “No stop, stop. Earl, please._ Don’t. _”_

_As he started to press the knife into her skin, the dream changed again. She was sitting on the couch in Seed Ranch, a book in her lap, and John looking at her._

_“Why do you even bother going to your room?” she asked him._

_He walked away from her and she followed him into his room. He undressed her slowly, then himself, before leading her to the bed and wrapping his arms around her. She lay her head on his chest and relaxed, finally feeling she had a place to belong._

She woke up alone, in an unfamiliar room. Once she realised where she was, she got dressed and left the small house, finding John outside, shirtless, and talking to Brother James. They stopped talking as she approached. John looked as relaxed and carefree as he usually did. He was almost impossible to read, unless he _wanted_ to convey emotion. Mercy, on the other hand, was a wreck, and it showed. She’d checked herself in the bathroom mirror before coming outside, and thought she looked like she’d been hit by a train. Her hair was dishevelled, she had bags under her eyes, and she seemed to have a permanent frown she couldn’t get rid of. Her worries showed on her face, and she needed comfort, so she took John’s hand and put her head on his bare shoulder.

Eventually they went back inside and John sat her down, finally telling her what was essentially the Project’s Doomsday Plan. Each region of Hope county had its own bunker that was controlled and managed by John, Jacob and Faith. The bunkers were all connected by tunnels deep underground. Joseph said the bunkers would be used as Noah’s Ark was, shielding people to survive the Collapse. The bunker system was Eden’s Gate - the Project members would march to the gate when the Collapse came. Joseph predicted it would take seven years for the world to recover after the bombs fell. After those seven years, he and his family of survivors would emerge from Eden’s Gate into the new world.

The bunkers had massive storage facilities for provisions such as food and medicine, as well as vehicles, weapons and even hydroponic facilities they could use to continue growing some plants and food. Everything had been accounted for, he said. They had more than enough supplies. Joseph wanted the human race to endure and survive. He wanted to save as many people as he could.

_“If you can, try and convince them to join the Project,” he’d instructed her. “I know you would prefer if they were unharmed.”_

He’d remained silent when she asked him what _his_ preference was.

And so here she was, standing in front of the Hope County Jail, surrounded by Project guards, countless thoughts rattling around in her head. _How am I supposed to convince them to join the damn Project when I’m struggling to believe in it completely myself?_ A nuclear war just seemed like something from a fairytale. Yes, it was a possibility, but surely they weren’t that close to the brink?

John stood beside her, holding a megaphone. “Use this, instead of going up to the gate. Easier for us to get out if they retaliate,” he said.

She took the megaphone from him and nodded. “I don’t know what to say,” she mumbled to the device in her hands.

He stepped back. “Yes, you do.” He fixed his gaze on the prison, looking past her, hands clasped behind his back. She turned from him, following his gaze, and held the megaphone to her mouth.

“Sheriff,” Mercy said, her voice echoing around the grounds. “Sheriff it’s the Deputy… it’s Rook. I’ve come to talk to you, but I need you to come out unarmed. Please, I just want to talk.” She screwed her face up. _This is never going to work._ She felt childish and lame, like a teenager whose new boyfriend’s family was meeting her family for the first time. Except the family on both sides is huge and everyone has a gun - except for her.

Faces appeared over the gate. “Oh my god, Dep!” Whitehorse exclaimed. “Dep, it’s really you! Hang in there, kid!”

A few minutes later he came out of the compound with ten other members of the Resistance. They all _looked_ unarmed, but if she knew Whitehorse, he’d have something up his sleeve. He held his arms open as if to embrace her. She placed the megaphone on the ground and looked at John briefly, before walking towards Whitehorse. She stopped in the middle, hoping he would walk the rest of the way to meet her - which he did. He wrapped his arms around her, and she was suddenly overwhelmed - he was familiar, he was someone she knew, he was… packing. She felt the butt of the pistol under his shirt. _Shit._

She stepped from his embrace and tapped her foot once, indicating to John he had a weapon, before smiling at Whitehorse. “Sheriff, I’ve come to you, with John, to implore you to reconsider joining us at the Project at Eden’s Gate,” she said, hoping she sounded confident and sincere. She still thought of him as her superior, as someone to guide her. She didn’t want to make him her enemy. “What they’re doing… Sir, I know from the outside it looks bad, but I’ve spent a lot of time with people from the community they’ve built. They’re _good people_. Kind people. And with the growing tensions between us and some of the other global superpowers, what they’re trying to achieve actually makes sense. I promise you, if you join the Project… if you join us, you and the other Resistance members will _not_ be harmed.”

“Dep, no!” Whitehorse remarked. “Please, please tell me you haven’t converted to their side!”

John spoke then from behind her - he hadn’t approached them and was still standing in the same place, his hands clasped behind his back. “I promise you, Sheriff. Join us and you can find happiness. Just as the Deputy has.”

Mercy turned to look at John and started to smile at him when Whitehorse grabbed her, holding her around the waist and putting his pistol to her temple. “No way in hell are you getting my people, and I won’t let you corrupt this young woman!” Whitehorse shouted. The other Resistance members drew firearms too and pointed them at John and his team.

“Sheriff please,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm. “I haven’t been corrupted, I’m here because-” she faltered. _Because I’ve been told to._ “Because I _want_ to be here. I’ve been helping people find happiness and safety within the community the Project has built. And I want you to be safe, and happy. Aren’t you tired of fighting?”

The Project’s guards raised their rifles in defence. John held up his hands. “Please, Sheriff, there’s no reason we can’t resolve this peacefully.”

“Peacefully? You sadistic fucker, I’ll have your head mounted in my office!” With that, Whitehorse fired at John, hitting him in the stomach.

Someone was screaming, and it took her a minute to realise _she_ was screaming. “Hudson told me she’d seen you with him, coming out of the church in Fall’s End hand in hand!” Whitehorse spat, struggling to drag her back to the prison. “I won’t let him take you from your people!”

She wasn’t sure what was happening, all she could see was John lying on the ground, his hands on his stomach. Brother James was standing in front of him, firing back at the Resistance. Any doubts she’d been having about which side she should be on were pushed from her mind at that moment. The only thing she knew was she needed to get to John. Whitehorse was still trying to drag her backwards, his head bowed in concentration. She kicked back, her heel connecting with his leg, before knocking her head back into his face, hitting him in the nose. This forced him to release her and she bolted towards the Project’s guards, ducking low and diving behind a concrete barrier. She caught Brother James’ eye and nodded.

“Push forward!” he yelled, and the Project guards started to slowly advance. The two immediately in front of her got close enough that she could start crawling behind their legs and start making her way towards John. _Why couldn’t I wear my god damn jeans today?_ she thought as she pushed along the hot ground, stones scratching her bare legs and digging into her skin. She was so close to him, just a little further…

“Mercy!” Whitehorse called. “Goddamnit girl, come here!”

She looked to her right to see him charging towards her. More Resistance members had come out of the prison and were fighting the Project guards. Brother James stepped in front of her, rifle aimed at Whitehorse. “Don’t kill him!” she shouted.

Brother James fired a few warning shots that landed at Whitehorse’s feet, making him stop, before he had to turn his attention to gunfire to his left. She scrambled to John, kneeling in front of him, trying to shield his body from the Resistance.

“No,” she said, placing her hands on his stomach, repositioning his hands over the entry wound. “Don’t you _fucking_ dare. Keep holding that there.” She struggled to pull his pistol from its holster and he stared at her as she checked it was loaded. When she met his gaze, she saw something there she’d never seen before - fear.

“Gonna end it for me now?” he asked shakily, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Shut up.” Mercy turned her head to quickly survey the area. Of the twenty guards that had accompanied them, two had fallen. Whitehorse was still trying to approach her, blood running from his nose. She raised John’s pistol and shot Whitehorse in the shin to prevent him from coming closer. He fell immediately. “I’m sorry,” she muttered sadly as she stood up, dragging John with her towards one of the convoy trucks. Shots whizzed past her head, shattering the windscreen and rear window of the truck.

Brother James appeared at her side and helped her carry John the rest of the way to the car. He brushed as much glass as he could off the back seat before helping her hoist John up onto it. As she jumped into the driver’s seat, Brother James hopped onto the mounted gun in the tray. She floored the accelerator and sped away from the prison.

“Tell me where to go!” she yelled. “Now, John!”

“Joseph… Joseph’s compound.” he coughed.

She watched him in the rearview mirror. It looked like he was slipping in and out of consciousness. “John, stay awake.” She reached around and hit him in the knee. “Awake!”

She struggled to keep the car on the road and narrowly avoided hitting a couple on a quad bike. Joseph’s compound wasn’t that far away, right?

“Follow the road, and turn right at Lorna’s Truck Stop!” Brother James shouted. She nodded once and kept driving.

To try and distract herself from the panic bubbling up in her chest, she sang along to the radio.

_“In the west shall rise, a sinister creed. The rich will get what they want, the poor will lose what they need…”_

She looked at John in the mirror again. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell quickly.

_“Oh Lord, the Great Collapse, won’t be our end. When the world falls into the flames, we will rise again.”_

“Follow through and turn left just before Hollyhock Saloon.” Brother James yelled.

John coughed from the back seat. “Keep singing,” he said weakly. “It’s nice.”

She laughed. “I can’t sing to save my life.”

He met her gaze in the mirror. “Please.”

She kept singing to the songs on the radio, her eyes darting nervously between the road and the mirror, making sure he was still breathing. By the time she reached the compound, John had passed out, and the back seat of the truck was covered in blood. Brother James helped her pull him from the truck and carry him to Joseph’s church. Joseph was kneeling on the floor at the back of the room, arms raised, the tattoos and scars on his back in full view. He turned towards them when the doors opened and looked from her, covered in blood, to John, dripping blood onto the church floor.

He motioned for them to lay John down before the altar. “I will fetch our doctor,” he said gently, sweeping from the church. His face gave nothing away. He didn’t even look concerned.

Mercy dropped to her knees next to John’s head, Brother James standing behind her. “Fuck you,” she whispered to John, watching his chest rise and fall weakly. “Fuck you for bringing me here, and fuck you for making me-”

“Deputy, come back child, and let the doctor through.” Joseph said softly from behind her. She scrambled to her feet and allowed him to lead her from the church as three people closed in on John.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple of chapters might be a bit slower to come out as I re-work the story.
> 
> Thanks again for your support and lovely comments!

“I have sent for Jacob,” Joseph said, setting a mug down in front of Mercy. He’d taken her to another building in the compound - she wasn’t sure if it was his residence or not. “He will be here shortly. Please, tell me what happened.”

She reached out to grab the mug and stopped, noticing her blood-covered arms and hands for the first time. She turned her hands over, replaying the scene in her mind.

_“Gonna end it for me now?”_

_“Mercy! Goddamnit girl, come here!”_

She folded her hands in her lap, tea forgotten, and closed her eyes. A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. She looked up to see Joseph staring at her intently. “There is no shame in crying.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Joseph removed his hand from her shoulder, then pressed the mug of tea into her hands. “Drink.” She took a sip. It was warm and comforting. Before she knew it, she'd drained the mug. “Please tell me what happened today,” Joseph said softly, but his voice had a hard edge to it this time, his impatience showing through.

“We went to the prison and I asked Whitehorse to meet us outside. I met him in the middle, between our cars and the prison... I tried to convince him to join the Project, told him they wouldn't be harmed, but I suppose he thinks I’ve been brainwashed… he put a pistol to my head, tried to drag me to the prison and shot… and shot John. I managed to get back to John and take his pistol. I shot Whitehorse in the leg to distract him…” Tears spilt over and landed on her chest. “I hope he's okay. I hope he can forgive me.”

She hung her head again, trying to hide her face, Joseph's hand returning to her shoulder. “I understand you were close to him. But now he has shown his true face, his hated, his evil. He will be consumed by his sin.”

She shook her head, looking up at him, anger slowly rising. “He's not evil! He's just trying to protect his people!”

“From what?” came a voice from the doorway. Jacob stepped into the room. “Protect his people from what, Deputy?”

Mercy looked at him, considering her words carefully. “From what he perceives as a threat,” she replied, hoping she sounded sincere. “Maybe I should go and speak to him alone. Perhaps if it's just me, he'll be… calmer. I don’t think meeting them with a score of armed soldiers was the best approach.”

Jacob laughed. “You believe this woman?” He rounded on Joseph. “She's still a Resistance member! Listen to her lies! She might have John fooled, but she will not fool me.”

“Bug me if you want, give me a body camera if you need to! I'm not stupid, I know you have technology and resources you have at your disposal. I also know Whitehorse. He’s a - he _was_ a kind man. I can’t give up on him. Please, don’t attack the jail. We’ll take some time to recover and try again.”

Jacob opened his mouth to argue, but Joseph stopped him. “Very well, Deputy. We will give him one more chance.”

“Thank you - excuse me.” With that, she pushed her chair back and stood up.

She had to get out of that room before she said something she'd regret later, so she went outside. The doors of the church were open and she could see people inside cleaning up the blood, but there was no sign of John. Sighing, she walked past the church to the dock and waded into the water. She went out until the water was up to her waist, before leaning back and allowing herself to float, staring up at the sky. As she lay there, she thought back to a night months ago at the Ranch.

_Mercy was laying on her favourite spot on the airstrip, staring up at the starry sky. John lay beside her, one arm behind his head. They'd been there for hours, not really speaking, just enjoying their little bubble of calm._

_“Do you ever wish you could be up there, looking down on the world?” she asked him. “It'd be such a beautiful sight.”_

_“Not really,” he'd replied, reaching out to take her hand. “I find there's enough beauty here on Earth already, if you know where to look.”_

She smiled and closed her eyes. _Damn you, John Seed._ Why did he have to complicate things? She wanted to show loyalty to her team, but she wanted to stay here too. Maybe she should just leave? Forget about John, forget about Hope County. Change her name and move to the other side of the world. But she couldn't do that.

She didn’t know how long she’d been floating in the water for when she heard Brother James calling her. “Deputy!” he shouted from the dock. “You can see John, he's awake!”

A ripple of excitement coursed through her at his words. She got up and moved through the water as fast as she could, following him to another small building in the compound. She opened a door to a brightly lit room, stepping in to find John sitting in a small hospital bed. Joseph and Jacob were standing next to him.

John smirked and looked her over. “You look like shit,” he croaked, the corners of his mouth twisted up slightly. “Why are you all wet?”

He looked awful. He was as pale as a ghost with deep purple bags under his eyes. Shirtless and battered, he was propped up in a sitting position, and she could see a gauze patch on his stomach to cover the entry wound. She approached the bed, standing on the opposite side to his brothers.

“I went to cool off,” she mumbled.

Joseph spoke. “The doctor tells me he was able to remove the bullet successfully, and John will make a full recovery.”

John nodded, looking at her. “I'll live to see another day, thanks to you.”

“I must thank you, Deputy, for saving John’s life today. However, we lost two brothers and four of our flock were injured, and that cannot go unpunished.” Joseph looked as serene as he always did, but fixed her with a hard stare.

Mercy stood looking at him blankly as he motioned to Jacob. Jacob approached her, grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her away from the bed, holding her arms behind her back. John was silent, his mouth set in a hard line.

“You put my brother and members of our community in danger by approaching the Resistance today. You should have stayed back and negotiated at a distance like you were told.” Joseph said slowly, walking around the bed towards her and removing a large knife from Jacob's belt. He used the knife to cut the straps of her dress, letting the material fall around her waist. She struggled against Jacob's grip, but it was no use - she may as well have been trying to pull against a brick wall. “Turn her around please, Jacob.”

She suddenly found herself staring at Jacob's chest, her wrists held in front of her. She felt Joseph's hand on her back, gently caressing the exposed skin between her bra straps. “It's such a shame it has to be this way, but how else will you learn?” She felt his lips against her right shoulder blade, like a hot iron to her flesh.

John spoke then, his voice cool and even. “Joseph, I'll take her punishment, I should have had better control of the situation-”

“She must _learn_ , John. Just as you did. Just as I did.” He spoke to John just like an older brother would chide their younger sibling.

She heard John exhale hard and wondered if this is what he went through all those months ago after Fall’s End - was he restrained, or did he just stand there while they tore into him?

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I was just overwhelmed at seeing him again and-”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Joseph said, cutting her off. “It’s done.”

Mercy felt the blade, cool and smooth against her skin in the same spot Joseph had kissed. It sunk into her flesh, just deep enough to only cut her skin, yet so much deeper than the cuts John had bestowed, slowly dragging down, tearing her open. She cried out in surprise and pain, pressing her forehead to Jacob's fingers, still holding her wrists. It finally stopped, the blade was removed and she stood, panting, trying to breathe through the pain. The reprieve was short-lived as Joseph pressed the blade in again next to his original incision. By the third cut, she was shaking with the pain, her knees threatening to give out from under her. He made six cuts in total, one for each member of his family that were killed or injured that day by her actions. When he'd finished he instructed Jacob to let her go and she stumbled forwards as he stepped away from her.

Joseph grabbed her around the waist, his hands on her hips to keep her steady. “I hope you can now see the importance of my family to me, child. It would break my heart to have to do this again.” He released her and left the room with Jacob, leaving her leaning on the wall next to John's bed.

“Deputy?” John called out to her quietly. “Mercy?”

She slowly found the strength to push herself away from the wall and walk over to sit next to him again. She gave him a shaky smile, trying to ignore the warm ooze of blood down her back. “I'm okay,” she said. “I'm okay.” She closed her eyes and put her hands on her knees, breathing hard.

He stroked her hair, trying to keep it off the new wounds on her back before leaning over and grabbing a tissue from the box next to the bed, using it to mop up some of the blood. She flinched but said nothing, nodding to herself a few times, John's words echoing in her head from after the events at Fall's End.

_“It was a suitable punishment for the crime.”_

***

They spent a week at Joseph's compound while John recovered enough to travel. One of the nurses had helped clean and dress the cuts on her back, but she did not comment on them. The nurse had similarly styled cuts on her forearms. Mercy had not been permitted to spend any real time with John, whether that was intended or not she didn’t know. She visited him daily to check on his progress, but Joseph always had her doing something - attending his sermons, speaking with hundreds of members of his flock, helping them with their chores around the compound. The people she spoke to were all unnervingly calm and so damn _nice._

_“We're so glad you can be with us today. Welcome, Deputy!”_

_“Thanks be to you for helping us with that delivery of grain!”_

_“Would you like to join us tonight at choir practice?”_

_“I'm so sorry to hear about your master, poor John. Please tell him the Brown Family are praying for his speedy recovery!”_

She scoffed to herself as she folded a pile of laundry. _Her master._ Yeah, right. She finished her folding and walked across the compound to the small building that acted as the medical centre. As she approached, she heard John's angry yell followed by a crash, so ran to the room and came to a stop in the open doorway.

Jacob stood in front of her just inside the room, watching, unmoving, arms crossed over his chest. Through the gap between his arm and the doorway, she could see John had pushed the bed against the opposite wall and it stood at an odd angle, the blanket and pillow strewn on the floor.

“Those sneaky fuckers, I'll kill them!” John yelled, punching the wall. She heard the plasterboard split and crumble.

“I can send a squad of Chosen over to Holland Valley to deal with them, brother.” Jacob said evenly, before chuckling. “I haven't seen you this mad since your little deputy was making your life hell.”

_Chosen?_

John growled and turned to face his brother. “Yes, well that was - oh.” He stopped when he saw her face under Jacob's elbow. “Deputy, come in,” he said, suddenly calm.

He wouldn’t address her by her name unless they were alone, something she found odd. “That was what?” she asked, squeezing past Jacob and surveying the damage to the room. “What's happened?”

“Some members of the Resistance have destroyed a couple of our silos in Holland Valley,” Jacob answered, fixing her with a cold stare. “You remember doing that, don't you?”

She did indeed remember, the rush she felt when she planted the remote explosive and watched it destroy the towering red silo. She nodded.

“We'll leave for the Ranch today,” John said shakily, while pulling on a shirt. He winced as he reached back for the other sleeve, his torso twisting and obviously pulling on the wound on his stomach. “Try and sort this mess out.”

“Are you sure that's wise?” Mercy asked. “Let me try and speak with them again tomor-”

“No,” he replied coldly. “I'll come and collect you when it's time to leave.” She watched them leave the room, feeling her anger building quickly.

“Asshole.” she whispered, watching him leave. “I’ll sort this out on my own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are you planning, Dep?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I'm really excited about what's to come :) Enjoy!
> 
>  **Warning:** Little bit of non-con in here.

Mercy's heart beat hard in her chest. How long would it take them to notice she was gone? She’d snuck down to the dock, past the church and stolen a Boatercycle. Now she was speeding down the channel as fast as she could, unarmed, the skirt of her dress flapping about wildly. The only thing she had was her scanner radio. She had to fix this. She had to get the Resistance on her side, or at least leave the county. The last thing she wanted to see was more bloodshed or her team killed. _Her team._ Were they still her team?

She spotted a dock and slowed to align with it, hopping off. There was a small group of houses near the dock, but they were silent, so she crept up towards them. In the middle of the path that led towards the road, she saw a pile of burning bodies and looked at them sadly, covering her nose and mouth with her hand to try and block out the smell of burning flesh. She came to a stop next to the road in front of the _Old Sun Outfitters Chalets_ sign. They’d driven past this sign on the way to the prison, she remembered. Looking up and down the road, she spotted a truck to her right. _Perfect._ She jumped in and turned right, driving carefully, trying to fit in with the other vehicles and hoping no one would recognise her. It was time to meet with Whitehorse again. 

The scanner blared to life. “Deputy,” came John’s voice, calm but strained, crackling slightly. “Where are you?”

Mercy reached over to the seat next to her and grabbed the scanner, pressing the button. “I’m going to try and fix things,” she replied. “I’ll come back to the Ranch when I’ve repaired things with Whitehorse. I promise. Please don’t send anyone after me, I don’t want to make things worse.”

“Why the fuck-” John started angrily, when she heard Joseph in the background.

“John, if this is what she feels she needs to do to atone, then you must let her.”

She heard John sigh angrily. “Fine. Enjoy your little _reunion._ ”

Mercy pressed the button on the radio again. “I’m sorry.”

She stopped the car at the road and snuck up to the prison, hugging the fence line. Slowly, she approached the guard tower and knocked on the door. Hudson’s face appeared in the window and her eyes widened before she yelled out in surprise.

“Jesus Christ, get Whitehorse!” she called to someone over her shoulder. “Tell the guys up top to gear up for another fight!”

“No! Hudson, please. I’m here alone. I don’t want to fight. I promise you, I’m unarmed.” Mercy stepped away from the door and turned in a slow circle on the spot, hands up. “See? I only came to talk.”

Looking up, she saw Resistance fighters along the wall above, all pointing their guns at her. It felt odd to be on the other side of those weapons again. Eventually, the door opened and four burly men came through, followed by Hudson and Whitehorse, who was on crutches. One of the men patted her down, his hand hitting the radio she’d put in her dress pocket. He grabbed it out roughly and handed it to Whitehorse.

“Gonna use this to report back to you new family?” he asked her, voice dripping with venom and sarcasm.

Mercy sighed. “I snuck away from them. Yes, I have used it to tell them what I’m doing, and asked them not to send anyone looking for me. I told them I’ll go back to them after… after I’ve spoken with you.”

Whitehorse turned the scanner over in his hands. “Bring her inside,” he commanded, pocketing the device and making his way slowly into the prison. They led her inside, throwing her into cell number one and locking the door. One of the men brought a chair over for Whitehorse. He sat outside the door, looking at her. All four men had their guns trained on her and Hudson stood next to Whitehorse, arms crossed. In an attempt to seem less threatening, Mercy sat on the floor of the cell before Whitehorse, looking up at him.

“I promise you, I have come to you peacefully and with no hidden agenda,” she said. “Please, Sheriff. You know me.”

“Do I?” he asked. “Because last time I saw you, it looked you were playing happy families with that sadistic asshole John Seed.”

She averted her gaze. “I wouldn’t call it _happy_.” _Liar. You_ are _happy. This is the happiest you’ve been in years._ “But I cannot deny he and I… we have something.” She shrugged. Whitehorse made a noise of disapproval. Mercy looked back to him. “I can’t help it, Sir. I know what he’s done. I know what he’s capable of doing. Hell, he even did some of that to me-” She yanked the neckline of her dress down, revealing the tattoo briefly. “But I can’t help the way I feel about him. I don’t expect you to understand, _nor_ do I expect you to join the Project as I have. But I don’t want to see you or your people hurt. If you cannot or will not join them, I implore you to leave Hope County.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes, trying to stop them from filling with tears. Since when did she cry so much?

“I can’t do that, Rook.” Whitehorse said coldly. “This is our home and we will not be driven away. He’s clearly trapped you with that god damn drug like they did with Burke-”

“He has not. I’m clean.” she responded quickly, then paused. “Is Burke here?”

“Burke’s long gone, kid. There’s no getting him back.” Whitehorse spat. “They pumped him with that damn Bliss and now he’s one of them. We’ve tried to get him back, countless times... but I won’t let them take you with that poison!”

“I haven’t had it, Jesus Christ, Earl!” she cried in frustration. “Not even _John_ uses it!”

“He’s really got you duped, doesn’t he?”

“Sir, with all due respect-”

“And now you’ve shacked up with him!”

Mercy was starting to lose her patience. “I have not _shacked up._ I was kidnapped and tortured and-” she stopped. Even to her own ears, it sounded ridiculous. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t think he’s as bad as he thinks he is. I think… I think I’m getting through to him, I’m helping him change.”

Hudson made a noise that sounded like she was choking on a piece of hard candy. “As if that perverted piece of shit could change!” she said. “He kept me in that fucking bunker for _weeks_ , trying to get information from me.”

“And what did he determine to be your sin?” Mercy asked, looking at Hudson steadily.

“My sin?”

Mercy pulled the neckline of her dress down again, holding it in place so Hudson could see her tattoo clearly. “Didn’t he try and determine your sin so he could ink it in your skin to be seen by all?”

Hudson shook her head, staring mutely at the crude letters inked beneath Mercy’s collarbone.

Mercy clenched her fists. “Sheriff, wasn’t it _you_ that tried to get us to turn back in that helicopter? Wasn’t it _you_ that said: “Joseph Seed is not a man to be fucked with”? Wasn’t it _you_ that said: “it’s best to leave well enough alone”? Why not take your own advice? Leave well enough alone. They’re only here in Hope County, it’s not like they’re aiming to overtake the damn country.”

Whitehorse grunted and shook his head, pulling Mercy’s scanner from his pocket and pressing the button. “John Seed. This is Sheriff Earl Whitehorse. I’ve got the deputy here, she’s safe. Thank you for allowing her to return to us - her _real_ family. Don’t try and come for her, she doesn’t want anything to do with you fuckers.”

“Earl, _NO!_ ” she yelled as he released the button, threw the radio on the ground and shot it with his pistol, destroying the only link she had with John. She stood and threw herself against the cell door in vain. “Why?” she asked angrily. “I told you I’m not a threat to you, but I can’t guarantee he won’t be! What have you done?”

Earl grunted as he got to his feet, balancing on his crutches. “The right thing, kid. You’ll be better off here with us, if we can get you back on the right side of this war.” He limped away, leaving her screaming after him.

***

The first night in the cell was hard, and Mercy had dreams about being in John’s bunker again, chained to the wall, being tortured, being alone. This cell was smaller and not much different, except she wasn’t cuffed. _At least I don’t have to piss into a bucket,_ she thought to herself. She’d tried everything she could to get Whitehorse to release her - logic, pleading, crying, even threatening. He wouldn’t budge. She was never alone, there was at least one armed guard trained on her at all times.

She worried about John. Did he really think she was trying to escape him? Would he send a team in to try and rescue her? When would they come? What would he do to her when they were reunited? She touched the scars on her hips absent-mindedly, tracing the letters of the word _PRIDE_ with her index finger. He was certainly right about that. It was her pride that got her into this mess in the first place.

The first night turned into two, two turned into four, and before she knew it three weeks had passed, with no word from John or the Project. Three weeks that weren’t unlike being in John’s bunker, except she was made to feel worse because the pain was being inflicted by people she thought she knew. They’d tried using force to get cult information out of her, which she claimed she didn’t have.

_Two men had been tasked with questioning her today. They were both over six feet tall and brawny, towering over her. They’d tied her to a chair and taken her to a private investigation room in the jail. One of them stood behind her, leaning over the chair, while the other backhanded her across the face._

_“All you gotta do is tell us about them Peggie cunts,” the man behind her said low in her ear. “Then it’ll stop.”_

_“I’ve had worse,” she said, eyes prickling at the sting of the blow. The man behind her chuckled._

_“Sheriff said she’d been fuckin’ John Seed,” said the one that hit her. He sneered down at her, top lip curled over his teeth in a look of pure disgust._

_The Resistance member behind her laughed and settled his hands on her shoulders. His hands slid forward over her chest and he cupped her breasts roughly. Mercy struggled against him but she was stuck fast. He laughed in her ear._

_“Maybe that’s what she needs to give us what we want? Maybe if she gets some decent dick she’ll convert back to the right side.” His hands slid down further and pulled her shirt up to reveal her stomach, the tops of her scars peeking through over the waistband of her pants._

_“The fuck are they?” asked the one that hit her._

_The second interrogator stopped and released her, walking around to face her. She could see his arousal pressing against the confines of his trousers and screwed her nose up. He stepped forward and pushed the waistband of her pants down just enough to see the words that had been etched into her skin._

_They both stepped away from her, eyes wide. “Jesus Christ, what the hell are these?” the second Resistance member asked, before turning to his friend. “What should we do?”_

 _The other one shook his head. “Nuh-uh, I’m not touchin’ this. Ima get the Sheriff.”_

The look of shock and disappointment on Whitehorse’s face had almost been too much for her to take. She’d tried explaining the reason behind them (well, the reason behind the _PRIDE_ one, at least) but he didn’t want to listen to anything she said.

Hudson didn’t seem to want to talk to her more than necessary, which broke her heart. Mercy had discovered the Resistance had rescued Hudson from one of Faith’s outposts a couple of months earlier. Hudson was happy and free to roam about the jail as she pleased, working for the Resistance.

_“Did they lock you up too?” Mercy had asked as Hudson brought her a meal one evening._

_Hudson shook her head. “They didn’t have to. I didn’t give them any reason to doubt me.”_

Mercy noticed on the few occasions Hudson had been posted to watch over her, that she sometimes spoke as if there were a third person with them. Sometimes she’d say things like, “You’re not really here.” or “I don’t have time for this.” Other times when she was talking to herself, she’d get agitated and lash out at nothing, then close her eyes and seem to relax. Whenever Mercy tried to ask Hudson about it, or even just as if she was alright, Hudson would shut her down and change the subject.

One day in her third week at the jail, she found herself cuffed to her cell door while Hudson prodded her with a taser.

“I told you,“ she panted. “ _I. Don’t. Know. Anything._ I can only tell you what I’ve already told you - I was kept prisoner in John’s bunker - I don’t know where that is, he knocked me out with some drug to get me to and from there. Then I was at Seed Ranch for a few months, and I got closer to John. I didn’t _leave_ the Ranch, except to go to places around Holland Valley to attend sermons and Cleansings. Then the Father came and asked us to come and see you, and you know what happened after that. John never spoke to me about the goings on of the cult, I’m not privy to their team meetings or whatever, I’m just… I’m just… I’m just _there._ I often I talk to people that attend the church, they’re friendly and kind and just want to be left alone.”

The taser hit her ribs. “I don’t believe you. Surely you picked up on _something_ in all those months? All you need to do is tell us the truth, Rook.”

She screamed in frustration. “ _I AM TELLING THE TRUTH!_ ”

_No, you’re not. Not completely._

Whitehorse entered the room then. “Hit her again.”

***

A few days after Mercy had recovered from that incident, Whitehorse tried again.

“Come on, kid. I don’t like to see you hurt.” he said softly, standing in front of her cell. “But I need you to tell me what you can about that fucking cult.” 

Mercy was absolutely wrecked and sighed in exasperation. “I’ve _told_ you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know nothing. All of my time was spent with John. I can’t tell you anything new about him that you didn’t know already, except for what he looks like naked.” She added the last bit sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Whitehorse grimaced. She raised her head and looked at him. “Earl. I don’t think they’re as crazy as they seem. I know it sounds mad, but they’re honestly helping people. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. The community they’ve built - those people are _happy_ , Earl. Truly happy.”

“They’re kidnapping people, kid. Taking them from their homes. Torturing them. Pumping them full of drugs. It’s not right.” He paused then inhaled deeply. “Did you know they have Pratt?”

She looked at him, startled. “No. What do you mean?”

“They’ve got him locked up in the Whitetail Mountains, gave him to Jacob Seed, apparently. Do you know what Jacob does to people, Dep?” he asked her, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She shook her head. “I’ve only met him a couple of times, and he’s not interested in talking to me.”

Whitehorse chuckled darkly. “He kidnaps people and puts ‘em through conditioning to become elite soldiers, or so I’ve heard. His whole bit is to ‘cull the weak’. I can only imagine what that means.”

She swallowed hard, “Have you heard from him? From Pratt?”

Whitehorse shook his head sadly. “No kid, I haven’t.”

***

Mercy was starting to feel the dark tendrils of loneliness reach towards her like they had in John’s bunker. Despite being surrounded by people, they weren’t the people she remembered. They ostracised her, they tortured her, they ignored her when they weren’t asking her for information. They had changed. _Maybe you’re the one that’s changed?_ a nagging voice asked her.

She rolled over in her cot onto her side, imagining John’s arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her against him. She pushed her back against the wall to try and recreate that feeling, but it was freezing cold and hard, so she moved away from it. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of him, but it was useless. He haunted her dreams, and she found the only thing that could calm her was thinking of him. _Why haven’t you come for me?_

Having so much time alone, though (and away from John) allowed her to reflect on where she was, how she got there, and how she really felt. When she was with the Project, and had established some trust with John, she was always busy helping people, and that brought her happiness. She had found it in her heart to forgive him for what he’d done to her, and for the first time in years felt like she was happy and had somewhere she belonged. Of course, he was obviously keeping information from her, and she couldn’t help thinking of the conversation she’d had with Whitehorse about Pratt. Surely John knew Jacob held Pratt captive. What kind of conditioning was Jacob putting people through, and was he doing that to Pratt too? Was there something she could do to help her friend?

Another two weeks passed, and the Resistance had ramped up their methods of trying to draw information from her. They’d tried not feeding her for a week, depriving her of sleep for three days, and one of them had even burned her arms with cigarettes. She didn’t change her story though, and eventually, Whitehorse agreed to start letting her out, supervised.

She was given chores to do - just like her time Joseph’s compound - and left to her own devices. The more time she spent with the Resistance members, the more she saw how alike the two camps were, but the Resistance members were somehow more violent, angrier. They’d instigate firefights with the Project, who the majority of the time were just trying to defend themselves. The Resistance had only one motive: kill any Project member in sight.

She’d tried countless times to make Hudson and Whitehorse change their ways.

_“You don’t have to kill them!”_

_“They mean you no harm, just leave them be!”_

_“They’re only located in Hope County, it’s not like they’re aiming for world domination. Why not gather as many Resistance members as you can and leave?”_

It was useless. Mercy realized what a fool she’d been, thinking she could make a difference on both sides. Sure, she’d made a difference to John, but he was one man. Trying to change the mindset of a small army, however, was a different story. The Resistance’s treatment of her had discouraged her greatly, she was exhausted, she was defeated. She couldn’t make a difference. The only thing she could do was try and look after herself.

As she returned to her cell in her sixth week of captivity, she made a decision. It was clear no one was going to trust her here. She wasn’t going to be happy with the Resistance, and she wasn’t prepared to live her life being ignored and judged by those that were once her friends. There was only one thing she could do.

Break out of jail.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a recreation/imagination of the second cutscene in Henbane River with Faith and Joseph.
> 
>  **Warning:** Definite non-con.

Mercy spent the next week trying to plot her escape. She’d decided that going out on her own was too dangerous - she’d have to go back to the Project immediately and figured she’d be safer if she did. She was strong, she could take whatever punishment they deemed fit to give her. But how was she to get out of the prison?

She was mostly ignored by the Resistance members because they still viewed her as the enemy, but the prison grounds were hers to roam - supervised. The Resistance member who had assaulted her in the interrogation cell (Mick, she’d leaned his name was), liked to follow her around, and often put his hand up for guard duty. As he followed her, he taunted her, threatening to show her “how a real American fucks”.

 _“Come on, baby,”_ he’d said to her one morning. _”Ain’t you gettin’ lonely? Dontcha want a bit of comfort? I know I sure do.”_

Mercy tried her best to ignore him, but he was starting to get under her skin. His incessant babbling distracted her from her most important task - figuring out how to get out of the jail. There were no weapons she could get her hands on (she’d looked, as much as she could while constantly being watched) and all entrances to the prison were under guard at all times. She’d thought of somehow getting Mick’s gun off him, but he never took his eyes off her so there was no opportunity to sneak up on him. The other weapons that weren’t in use were always locked away and she couldn’t get to them. They were also locking her cell at night, meaning she couldn’t try and break into the weapons cabinet in the middle of the night. She was stuck.

She’d started to give up hope that the Project would come for her. _Why should they? I betrayed their trust. They probably have a price on my head._ But it didn’t stop her missing John, or missing the feeling of him lying beside her at night. She lay in her cot and as quietly as she could, reached a hand down, under the waistband of her tracksuit pants and underwear, and pressed her fingers to her clit. She bit her lip, trying to breathe quietly, as she imagined they weren’t her fingers, but John’s instead, drawing small circles, making her gasp. She brought her free hand up to her breast and pinched her nipple gently through the fabric of her shirt. She exhaled shakily and parted her knees a little more when she heard the door to her cell open.

She froze. Who was that? There was shuffling to her left and the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down. “How you doin’ baby?” Mick whispered close to her ear. She heard the rustle of material and opened her eyes. By the moonlight filtering in from the skylights outside the cell, she could see him kneeling next to her, cock in hand, moving his hand along his shaft slowly. His pants had been pushed halfway down his thighs and the side of his face that was illuminated had a sick grin on it. “Wanna play?”

Mercy's words caught in her throat, she couldn’t think of what to say or do. She removed her hand from her pants and tried to recoil against the wall, but he reached out and grabbed her by the chin. He leaned forwards and kissed her roughly, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth and biting down on it hard. He reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. His other hand reached out for hers and wrapped her fingers around his length, forcing her to repeat the same motions he was doing just a moment ago. She gagged.

He pulled back slightly from her mouth and grunted, exhaling heavily into her face. “Mmph, keep doin’ that,” he muttered, gripping her fingers tighter and moving her hand faster. He closed the gap between them again, this time forcing his tongue into her mouth. This was her chance. She bit down hard, feeling her teeth puncture his tongue. Her mouth filled with blood and he pulled away from her, cursing loudly. He tried to disentangle himself from her completely, but she curled her fingers into the side of his erection, digging her nails in. He yelped and she released him, letting him fall back onto the floor. She heard a loud _thunk_ as his head connected with the metal toilet.

Lights started turning on throughout the jail and people came rushing in, Whitehorse in the lead. Mercy sat up and spat blood over the side of the cot onto the floor, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

“What in the hell happened here?” Whitehorse asked, looking from Mick, unconscious on the floor with his pants around his knees, to her sitting in the cot, trying to get all of the blood out of her mouth.

“He attacked me,” she replied shakily, wiping her mouth again. “I bit his tongue to make him stop.”

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Whitehorse, shaking his head. He turned and spoke to someone behind him. “Clean this idiot up and take him away. Where’s the key to this cell?”

Mercy scanned the floor and spotted the key next to Mick’s head. “There,” she said, raising a shaky finger and pointing to it.

Whitehorse bent down and picked it up. “Right, from now on _I’m_ the only one with this key, understood?” Everyone nodded. “And don’t put him on guard duty again.”

She watched two people struggle to fix Mick’s clothing and drag him out. Whitehorse put his hand on the door and looked at her sadly. “You okay kid?”

She nodded. “Yep.” _Liar._

He closed the door and locked it, pocketing the key. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The lights went out again and she sat, leaning her head against the wall, tears silently running down her cheeks. She needed to find a way out.

***

After that incident, Whitehorse had her helping Charles Lindsey, the Resistance’s vet-turned-doctor. He was performing various experiments and tests related to the Bliss, and she found herself spending a fair amount of time in his makeshift laboratory, taking notes he dictated to her while he worked. Sometimes he’d leave her in the room by herself, and she used those times to search for weapons, _anything_ she could use to defend herself - he didn’t even have a scalpel. Or if he did, he’d hidden it well.

When she wasn’t helping the doctor, she spent the majority of her time helping with odd chores around the prison, like laundry and meal preparation for the Resistance fighters. Mick avoided her like the plague. His tongue was still swollen and he couldn’t talk properly, which brought her a small amount of joy when she heard him trying to speak. She’d often walk past him and see him sitting alone, feeling sorry for himself. _You deserved it, you bastard._

During her seventh week in the jail, the doctor had a huge barrel of Bliss delivered to run tests on and she was asked to help bring it inside. A large group of Resistance fighters were out on a ‘mission’ led by Hudson, which Mercy could only assume meant they were going out looking for trouble with the Project. That meant it was up to her and Whitehorse to bring the barrel in, as they were down to a skeleton crew at the prison. They pulled it off the back of the pickup truck together and put it on the ground - it was heavy, and Whitehorse wasn’t as strong as he used to be. The truck drove off, leaving her standing awkwardly with Whitehorse while he tried to gather the strength to move the barrel again.

“Sheriff…” she started. He hadn’t spoken to her since the incident with Mick.

He held up his hand. “Don’t, Rook. Just don’t. Come on, let’s get this thing inside.”

They both bent to grab the barrel when there was an explosion to the left of the prison. Mercy froze, still squatting behind the barrel, trying to use it as protection as she was unarmed. Whitehorse sprung back and drew his pistol. “What in the hell was that?”

There was shouting behind her from the lookout on the prison wall. “Peggies!” the lookout yelled. “Coming in from the west!”

Mercy turned her head in the direction of the explosion to see a large group of Project fighters pushing towards the prison, guns raised. _Fuck._ She peeked around the barrel to the road and saw eight white pickup trucks speeding towards the compound, the Project at Eden’s Gate symbol painted on the sides. _Fuuuck._ Shots whizzed over her head from Whitehorse - he was firing at the group to the left. One of them fired back, knocking Whitehorse’s hat off his head. Startled, he staggered backwards and fired his pistol accidentally - straight into the Bliss barrel. They were both knocked to the ground as it exploded and she could vaguely hear shouting coming from the prison wall before glittery mist clouded her vision.

“Welcome to the Bliss.” said a female voice. She suddenly found herself face-to-face with Faith Seed. “I’m so glad to finally meet you, Mercy. I’ve heard so much about you from the Father.” Her voice was like tinkling bells and her smile was dazzling.

Faith reached out and took Mercy by the hands, pulling her to her feet. They were standing in a field full of tiny white flowers. To her right, Whitehorse was looking around in bewilderment. In the distance, she could see Joseph standing before a group of people sitting in the grass. She could hear him speaking, his voice echoing around her.

“This is not what we were meant for. This is not what we fought for. Our path diverges from the outside world now… and forevermore.”

Faith led her by the hand towards Joseph and the group of people, talking quietly the whole time. Whitehorse followed silently, still looking around in shock and awe. “We were devastated when you left,” Faith said, squeezing her hand. “We were so worried about you. But you’ll be safe now. You’re back here, with us.”

 _Where is ‘here’, though?_ she thought as they approached the small group of people. They were sitting in a ring around Joseph, who was still speaking. The people were all looking at Joseph with expressions of love and awe. Each face showed the same admiration. Even Burke’s.

_Burke._

He turned and smiled at her warmly, beckoning her over to him. Faith released her hand and she crouched next to Burke, Whitehorse on Burke’s other side, their hands on his shoulders. He held a finger to his lips and motioned to Joseph. Mercy followed his motion, looking up at Joseph - he was relaxed and calm, standing half-naked before members of his flock, speaking to them as if they were close friends.

“Because those on the outside will see what we have built here together, in our New Eden… the love.”

He turned to face her then and walked towards her, holding one hand out and pulling her to her feet, offering the other to Whitehorse and doing the same.

“And they will come,” he said, not breaking eye contact with her. “And they will try to take from us all that we have built.” He turned his attention to Whitehorse. “You judge me. You judge _us_. The things that we have done. People say… that I’m crazy. But when you wake up in the morning and you look at the same news that I do, do your eyes not fill with horror?”

He forced them to turn, so their backs were to the small congregation and pushed them forwards gently. That’s when she saw it. A mushroom cloud in the distance, dark orange and tinted with grey, filling she sky, the sound of the airstrike loud in her ears, smoke filling her lungs.

“This is the world?!” he shouted, walking towards the explosion, arms held high. “This? This is the world we built for our children?” He turned to face them again, holding her in his gaze, still speaking. She couldn’t look away from him, she couldn’t break eye contact. “Communities being torn apart. Walls being erected, because leaders are too impotent to act. Bullies are too addled to lead righteously.”

He held his hand out and she felt herself being dragged forwards by some unseen force, pulling her towards him. He grasped her upper arms, the warmth from his hands seeping into her skin. He moved one hand and motioned towards Whitehorse. He was dragged forwards too and Joseph placed his hand on Whitehorse’s shoulder. Joseph brought his face close to theirs and spoke again, his voice dropping low so only they could hear him. “I did not _ask_ for this. I was _chosen_.” He pulled them towards him, bowing his head to theirs as she had seen him do to John before.

Her vision clouded over and everything turned white. She could hear fire crackling close by, the smell of smoke a lot stronger now. Joseph was speaking again, his voice seemed to be very far away, but became louder as her vision cleared. She glanced around. He was standing in front of her, still gripping her upper arm firmly. Whitehorse was standing next to her, his eyes wide in fear. “See, everything is coming to an end,” he said, staring at Whitehorse. “You can feel that, I know you can.”

He stepped back from them and turned away, gesturing around him. Buildings around them were broken, the ground was cracked, the plants and trees had been burnt to nothing. To the right, a car was on fire, burning brightly, thick black smoke billowing upwards towards the burning sky. The world was broken and dying. As she looked around she was filled with immense fear, the reality of what could happen crashing into her like a ton of bricks. No, she didn’t want to be part of this world.

Joseph continued. “See, mankind is weak, and vulnerable. And we are hurtling towards our destruction and no one is willing to _do_ anything about it! _I_ can see that. _You_ can see. And we are not crazy. So what are we supposed to do? We just sit back and await the inevitable?” He stopped, looking around them. His shoulders sagged slightly and he seemed to soften. As she had when John came back from his punishment after Fall’s End, she started to feel sorry for the man before her. He was just trying to do the right thing. He was just trying to save people.

“I don’t claim to be a perfect man, but I saw what was coming and I chose to act. To lead. Because society is broken and the only way forward… is to go back to the way things once were. Innocent and pure. So safe and protected, in our Garden.” He was in front of them again and reached his hand out, cupping her cheek, then Whitehorse’s. “I can save you,” he whispered, before stooping to pick up a Bliss flower and holding it in front of her face. Instinctively, she leaned towards it and inhaled. It was sweet and soft, and her vision turned white once more. She heard him speak one last time before she passed out.

“But you have to have Faith.”


	15. John III

John waited near his truck on the road around the corner from Hope County Jail, pacing back and forth next to the vehicle. What was taking so long? He could have sworn he heard an explosion, but only a few gunshots. Seven weeks, he’d waited. Seven weeks and no word from her or the Resistance. Seven weeks ago, she left, but it felt like longer. He recalled the stab of betrayal he’d felt when he realised she’d gone. _I fucking gave myself to you and this is what you do?_ he’d thought at the time.

As he paced, he thought back on the moment he realised everything went downhill. Going to Henbane River, meeting with the Resistance, getting shot (not for the first time). Thinking she was going to join back with the Resistance when she hugged the Sheriff, but she surprised him as she always did and came to his rescue after he was shot. _My hero,_ he thought sarcastically.

Then he’d had to explain what happened to Joseph, who was less than impressed with the outcome and had her punished for it. He had to no choice but to sit and watch his brother carve into her flesh, watch her shake with the pain from the knife as he pressed it into her shoulder. The twinge of anger he'd felt when he saw Jacob's smirk as she pressed her forehead against his fingers. But she was strong and resilient, just as he remembered her being when he had her captive in his bunker. And Joseph was right - she had to learn. If she was going to stay with him, with them, she had to learn.

Just a week later, she left. He conceded perhaps that was partially his fault - she was trying to help and he pushed her away. It didn’t stop him from being furious at her actions. The anger he'd felt, mostly directed at her for leaving and partially at himself for trusting another person again. _Another whore,_ he'd thought. _Fuck me and leave._

_His anger overwhelmed him, overpowered him. She’d left. She’d fucking left, and he didn’t know where she’d gone, or why. Just that she wasn’t there._

__

__

_They’d searched the compound high and low before someone noticed one of the speedboats was missing. He cursed her loudly, cursed himself. How could he be so naive? Jacob was right, she was probably on her way back to the Resistance with all the information he’d given her about Eden’s Gate, information he’d given when his trust was misplaced._

_Joseph had tried to calm him down. “John, she’s likely gone back to try again. You know she wanted to do that. Perhaps you should give her the benefit of the doubt.”_

_“Bullshit!” he spat, pacing the dock like a caged animal. “Why did you even put her into my care, what are you playing at?”_

_Joseph stepped in front of him then, gripping the front of John’s shirt roughly. Although Joseph was only an inch taller, John felt like he was towering over him, glaring down at him, daring him to speak again. “The Lord presented me with a vision. She will march with us to Eden’s Gate. She will be your salvation, or you will die by your own sin. Do you not trust me, John? Do you not trust our Lord?”_

_John averted his gaze, looking instead at the water. “Yes Joseph,” he muttered. “Sorry.”_

_Joseph released him and stepped back. “The Lord spoke to me. He showed me your death, by her hand. He showed me Faith’s death, by her hand. And Jacob’s. But he also showed me your death as an old man, after the Collapse, with her by your side.” John stared at his brother, unsure what to say. “I took it upon myself to stop that vision of death from eventuating. She is better off with us, than against us. I will not lose my family.”_

_Joseph was right, of course. He’d made contact with her and she said she was going to try and “fix things”, whatever that meant. John sat on the dock by himself, mulling over the situation. Should he go for her straight away and drag her back to the Ranch? As he contemplated his next step, his radio scanner blared to life, and the Sheriff's voice came through. “John Seed. This is Sheriff Earl Whitehorse. I’ve got the deputy here, she’s safe. Thank you for allowing her to return to us - her_ real _family. Don’t try and come for her, she doesn’t want anything to do with you fuckers.”_

 _His rage started to build quickly again, but then he heard her: “Earl,_ NO! _”_

_He pressed the button on it quickly. “Mercy?” he asked. No response. “Mercy? Can you hear me?”_

_The radio was dead. He scrambled to his feet to find Joseph. “They have her at the prison,” he said. “I can send a team to go and collect her.”_

_Joseph smiled gently. “I heard, John. Do not be so rash - let her try and work this out herself.” He paused then, holding John’s gaze steadily. “Her name is Mercy?”_

_John nodded. “Yes.”_

_Joseph’s smile widened. “For judgment is without mercy to the one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.” he quoted. “We are judged by the Resistance, John. She shall triumph over them. Have faith.”_

So he’d been alone again, plagued by thoughts of her. She’d stalked him through his dreams when he eventually passed out from exhaustion. He often found himself dreaming of her lying next to him, under him, just being there, being close. He’d wake up panting, one hand wrapped around his straining flesh, and he'd have no choice but to give into his desires and finish what _she_ started, body convulsing under his own touch until he was spent. Too quickly, he would be flooded with feelings of anger and shame. He could not escape her. _Damnit, Deputy._

He started venting his frustrations on the new recruits at Cleansings as he did before she arrived, deeming more than necessary “unworthy” and ending their miserable lives in the river. He’d really believed she’d changed him, but without her there to anchor his rage, he slipped back easily into old habits. He leaned against the truck, closing his eyes and thinking about the first Cleansing she’d participated in; no, _interrupted_.

_He stood before five new recruits for another Cleansing. It was always the same - read from the Book, identify the sin, scare them into confessing. It was the easiest thing in the world, almost second nature. He could feel her eyes on him as he read. He'd told her to just stand and watch quietly, and believed she would follow his instruction, but he was wrong. He hadn't expected her to interfere, and he was taken aback when she tried to wrestle the pistol from his hand to stop him shooting the defiant asshole before him._

_“He can still be saved!” she'd cried, placing herself between them, before convincing the asshole to confess. He watched her silently as she drew confessions from each person there, confessing her own sins to help them. Although this approach wasn't as exciting, he had to concede it did work - it was the first Cleansing he'd had in a long time where at least one person hadn't been killed for being unworthy._

She’d changed him more than he cared to admit, and without her there, he felt like he couldn’t control his own wrath, the very sin he’d marked her for. Of course, he’d been marked with them all, several times. He'd gotten closer to her after that Cleansing, at first without realising, showing her a side to him that no one else saw, not even his brothers. A side no one had seen since he was young. He slowly opened up to her and started to genuinely enjoy his time with her, finding contentment in small things, like holding her hand or lying with her on the airstrip, just the two of them. He felt like he finally had something that was _his_ , only his. Something he didn’t have to share with his brothers, or with the Project.

He couldn’t wait for her to return on her own, and assumed that after so many weeks, she either couldn’t escape, or didn’t want to. Well, he was going to pull her out of there whether she wanted to be out or not. And if she really wanted to be with the Resistance then he would unleash his wrath on her in full force. In a stroke of luck, Faith contacted him to advise that the jail would be unprotected in just a couple of days time. She’d been whispering in Hudson’s ear since she was freed, allowing Faith to see what was happening in the prison.

 _”She’s going to lead a full-scale attack on the Hot Springs Hotel,”_ she’d told him one evening. _”That would be the perfect time to attack the jail.”_

So he started making a plan. He had two days to organise the resources he’d need. Forty men, eight pickup trucks… he even had an armed helicopter on standby, just in case. He’d given Brother James heavy gunner armour and told him to lead the attack.

“Bring her out of there,” he’d instructed. Brother James nodded as he put his helmet on and turned towards the prison. John stood, feeling somewhat helpless, as Brother James lead his squad through the trees to attack the prison from the side. How long ago had that been?

He started to pace again when there was movement to his right. He turned to see Brother James walking towards him, Mercy unconscious in his arms. Behind him, two men were dragging the Sheriff along, who was also unconscious. _What the fuck happened?_

He walked towards Brother James and took Mercy’s face in his hands. He could feel her breath on his fingers - she was still alive then. Looking down at her, he was overwhelmed with conflicting feelings. Part of him wanted to kiss her, part of him wanted to strangle her. He stroked his thumb across her cheek a few times and the world disappeared briefly. He was shaken from his thoughts when Brother James shifted her slightly in his arms. He looked up at him curiously and raised one brow.

“She and the Sheriff were trying to carry a Bliss barrel into the prison,” Brother James said. “I shot the Sheriff’s hat off his head as a warning. It startled him more than I thought and he lost his footing, shot the barrel. She was crouched behind it so the blast knocked her backwards, and he was close enough to be blasted off his feet too. Knocked them both out. I’ve left some men behind to distract the remaining fighters at the prison while we leave.”

John laughed loudly. “Excellent, great job. Put her in the truck.” He glanced at the unconscious form of the Sheriff, still being supported by the two guards. “Put him in the other truck. We’re going to my bunker.”

***

He carried her down the stairs, through the corridor and to the cell she’d called home for three months. He’d had a proper cot brought in, so he laid her down on it, grabbing the shackles and gently clipping them around her wrists and ankles. He didn’t know what she was going to do when she woke up - better to be safe than sorry. He sat on the edge of the cot and scrutinized her. She had new scars on her arms - burn marks by the looks of them. How did she get those? He ran his thumb over them, considering what to do.

He had sat in the backseat with her on the drive to the bunker. At first he had her propped up on the opposite side of the cab to him, leaning against the window. As he looked at her, he was overcome with anger and pulled out his pistol, pointing it at her. He wanted to shoot her for all the trouble she caused. Things were so much _simpler_ before she came along. He should have killed her in the bunker months ago, but _no_ , Joseph wouldn’t let him.

_”We need her, John. You cannot kill her.”_

He sat there, breathing hard, deliberating. Brother James turned around from the front seat and fixed John with a hard stare, reaching out and grabbing his wrist to point the gun at the floor.

 _”You don’t want to do that, John.”_ he’d said. _”You’ll regret it later. Wait until you can speak to her.”_

And so he had, putting his pistol away and crossing his arms, glaring at her angrily. Now she lay in the bunker again, still unconscious. He reached out to put his hand on her cheek, wanting to feel her again. His fingers moved down slowly, down her throat, over her chest, tracing the curve of her breast, all the way down to her hip. He pushed the material of her shirt up slightly, revealing the scars he’d bestowed on her peeking over the waistband of her pants. He considered the scars of _LUST_ near her left hip, thinking back on what led him to give them to her. He knew he that night had to take punishment for fucking her, and so he did, forcing the blade into his skin as she slept, marking their shared sin on his body. But as a member of the Project, she had to take the same punishment. He'd tried to be gentle, chasing the bite of the knife with a soft, pleasurable touch, but he didn't expect her to get _aroused_ by it. He looked at her face, smiling at the memory.

“You're just as fucked up as I am, aren't you, Little Dove?”

The more he thought about it, the more he realised that’s what she was - a Project member. Not only that, but she was _his_. He brought her in. He owned her. She needed to know that. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and produced his flip knife to do the only thing he knew how to do.

He moved her body, turning her over so she was lying on her stomach, then reached out, running his hand down her spine, across her lower back, over her buttocks, before leaning forward and pushing the material of her shirt up around her ribs. He bowed his head, placing his lips on the dip of her waist. Her skin was soft and warm, and he had an overwhelming urge to just lay his head down on her and close his eyes, but he couldn't. He had a job to do. He brought the knife closer to her waist and pressed down, breaking the skin. He watched her blood pool around the tip of the blade, welling up and spilling over onto her skin, like a river of rubies spilling onto white velvet. One, two, three cuts. Three turned into seven, and seven turned into twelve. When he was finished, he sat back and looked at the marks he'd left, bright red and oozing blood down onto the cot:

_YES_

He smiled, looking down at the letters. The letters that to him, said _MINE_. Feeling satisfied, he leaned down to kiss her shoulder before standing and walking out of the room.

He had a Sheriff to interrogate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damnit, Deputy!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is stupidly long.
> 
>  **Warning:** Smut. Duh.

It was cold. Wherever she was, it was cold, and she was slightly uncomfortable. Mercy was laying on her stomach and went to roll over, but couldn’t. Groaning, she opened her eyes slowly. The first thing she saw was a metal bench with a pitcher of water and a first aid kit. Tilting her head up, she saw two metal chairs in the corner of the room and one bucket. She felt a lot of things all at once: one, her left side was killing her; two, there were cuffs around her wrists and ankles; and three, she was back in John’s bunker, in that same cell. Surely she was dreaming? Panic started to grip her as she realised where she was. She reached for the edge of the cot, threw her head over the side and vomited on the floor.

Why was she back here? How was she going to get out? As she lay there trying to figure out what to do, memories came flooding back to her. Trying to help Whitehorse with the Bliss barrel. The prison being attacked by Project fighters. Whitehorse _shooting_ the Bliss barrel, which was apparently highly explosive. She closed her eyes, frowning. The memories started coming in faster. Meeting Faith. Seeing Burke. Joseph showing her the end of the world. It was closer than she thought. She could smell it, she could _taste_ it. The acrid stench of burning rubber and trees and flesh. He was right. _He was right._

Her eyes shot open. Her heart was racing. _He was right._ How could she be so blind? _He was right._ There was nothing she could do to stop it.

Once she’d regained her composure, she slowly and carefully turned over, trying not to get tangled in the chains that attached her to the wall. Finally laying on her back, she sat up, swung her legs over the side of the cot and put her head in her hands. She started to tremble, her mind's eye still swimming with the nightmare vision Joseph had shown her. The sights and smells of the world on fire. She didn’t want to be part of that world. She wanted to survive. She wasn’t going to leave her life in the hands of a government that didn’t care. No, she was going to _live_. And the only way to do that, properly do that, was to give her life to the Project and join them at Eden’s Gate. _Goddamnit._

She laughed at the irony. Isn’t that what this was all about? God damning them to a fiery end? She still wasn’t sure if God had anything to do with it, but she only saw one option now. To stay. Her left side was still groaning in pain, and the pain was now sharp enough to make her look. She lifted her shirt and twisted her torso, holding her left breast to get a better view:

_YES_

The word had been carved into the curve of her waist from rib to hip, presumably by John. The cuts were sore and wept slightly as she twisted her body. Thoughts of the end of the world were forgotten as her anger started to build up. What the hell did he do that for?

“Motherfucker,” she swore loudly, looking around for a cloth or a tissue to start wiping off the blood. There was a first aid kit on the bench opposite, but she couldn’t reach it, of course. She was chained to the wall. Again.

Right on queue, the door to the cell opened and in walked John, all confidence and charm. “You called, Little Dove?” he asked, smirking at her. He walked to the bench, as she’d seen him do so many times before, and leaned against it, palms face-down on its smooth surface, ankles crossed. He didn't look any different, still arrogant, still handsome, still incomprehensibly well-groomed for a major player in a doomsday cult. He studied her quietly, head tilted down, eyes up and boring into hers.

Her anger was bubbling in her chest again. She stood up, holding her shirt around her ribs and pointed at her side. “What the fuck is this?” she asked furiously.

He crossed the room in three quick strides, wrapping his fingers around her throat and forcing her back onto the cot. He swung his leg over her body so he was crouched over her, his face close to hers. She gripped his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but she didn't have the strength. John brought his face close to Mercy's and looked at her, his expression a mixture of lust and rage. “It means you're _mine_.” he hissed angrily, pressing his lips to hers before pulling back and spitting on the floor. Mercy watched his eyes travel from her mouth to the floor next to the cot where she’d thrown up. He released her and stepped back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Without speaking, he went to the bench and poured water into a plastic cup before handing it to her.

She took the cup gratefully and emptied it quickly. She couldn't deny he held power over her, and it was such a _John_ thing to do, to mark her as his. He stood before her with his arms crossed, waiting for her to speak. She couldn’t think of what to say. Where did she start?

As if he could read her mind, John spoke to her. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” he asked, one brow raised.

“I was angry,” Mercy said. “I wanted to fix things with Whitehorse. I wanted to at least try and bring an end to the fighting. I didn’t think they’d keep me… _torture_ me…”

She launched into the story of what happened over those seven weeks. Why she left, how she tried to convince them to leave but they wouldn’t, how they tortured her for information. She described the pain and loneliness she felt at being hurt by the people she thought she knew. He stood there and listened, unmoving, not speaking. She put the cup down and looked at him.

“Did you know Jacob has Pratt?” she asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

He nodded once. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t think you should tell me?”

A flicker of anger crossed his face briefly before he lowered his arms and sat next to her on the cot. “What would you do about it?” he asked her flatly.

She stopped. “I… I just want to know he’s alright. Whitehorse said Jacob is conditioning people. What does that mean? Is he doing that to Pratt?”

John shrugged. “I would assume he's tried. All I can tell you is that he is alive.”

She swallowed hard. Pratt was so young, a few years younger than her. He didn't deserve whatever Jacob was putting him through. “Can I see him? I need to know he's okay.”

“I will see if I can arrange something.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, knowing she'd get no further with him on that subject, and instead continued the story of her time at the prison. Eventually, she told him about Mick, and what he did to her, how she’d bitten his tongue to get him to stop. She looked up at him then, and his face was hard to read - he seemed to be battling between trying to remain expressionless and outright explosive anger. He seemed to regain control of himself and he turned to her, cupping her face in his hands.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked quietly. She shook her head slightly and gave her a sceptical look before he retrieved the key to her shackles from his pocket. He leaned down and released her ankles, then her wrists.

“There's more,” she said quietly. “I met Faith. I saw Joseph. When the barrel exploded I was knocked out and… I don’t know, it was like I was transported somewhere else, a misty green field. Faith said, “Welcome to the Bliss” and she took my hands, led me to Joseph. Whitehorse was there, and Burke. Joseph showed us his vision of the Collapse. It was horrific... so much death and destruction. I can still smell it, burning trees, burning flesh, the sight of the world on fire…” She gripped the edge of the cot tightly, knuckles turning white, staring at the floor. “I don't want to be part of that world,” she whispered. “I don't want to die like that, I want to survive. I want to _live_. If that means staying here and becoming a member of Eden's Gate then... that's what I'll have to do. And if he's wrong, then I'll have spent my life in a beautiful part of the world with someone I love.”

She clamped one hand over her mouth and looked at him in horror. _Why the fuck did you say that?_

John shifted, twisting his body to face hers and leaning in so she could feel his breath on her cheek. “Say it again,” he said, barely audible.

She gulped. “I said I'll have spent my life in a beautiful part of the world,” she repeated from behind her fingers.

He leaned in further, forcing her to twist to face him. “With?” he asked, face just millimetres from hers.

She took a deep breath. “With someone I love.”

John moved his hand to grasp her wrist, pulling her hand from her mouth. He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers. Instead of the forceful, almost bruising kisses she was used to receiving from him, this was soft, almost hesitant. He pulled away and gathered her in his arms, pressing her cheek to his. She felt his hand on the back of her head, his other around her waist and he inhaled deeply before turning his head and pressing his face into the side of her neck.

Mercy put her arms around his shoulders, placing one hand on the back of his neck. She felt somewhat awkward, twisted against him on the cot while he held her. He didn’t say anything, just stayed there, unmoving. He hadn’t displayed any sort of emotion like this, not in front of her at least, since the first night he came to her bed, and even then, this was different. She stroked his hair gently, trailing her fingers down the back of his neck. As she sat there, she thought about the stories he’d told her about his childhood. This was a man who had never known love, born into a family that didn’t want him, beaten by a father that was only interested in the bottle and the Bible, protected by two older brothers that were ripped away from him when he was given to a new family that only saw him as sinful and evil. She pitied him.

Eventually he pulled back enough to kiss her again, a little harsher this time, somewhat desperate, as if he hadn't seen her in years. He reached out and grasped her sides, pulling her to straddle him. She pulled back and grunted as his fingers dug into the cuts on her side, tearing them open again. He pushed her shirt up, pressing his index finger to the cuts, gentler this time, just enough to cover it in her blood. He then brought his finger to her mouth and dragged it along her lower lip.

She screwed her nose up slightly and frowned at him. “What-” she started, but he captured her bottom lip between his teeth, swiping his tongue across it slowly. She moaned softly against his mouth and draped her arms around his shoulders as his hips rose to meet hers. She pulled away, giving him a hard stare.

“I'm not going to fuck you in here,” she said flatly, placing her palms on his chest. She could have sworn she saw him pout before he grasped her ass and stood, carrying her over to the bench and placing her upon it. Still standing between her thighs, he reached over and seized the first aid kit, opening it up and pulling out various pieces to clean the cuts. He set to work and she leaned back on her hands, watching him. Pulling her stained shirt down when he finished, he flashed his most charming smile.

“Come, Little Dove,” he grinned, placing her on the floor again. “It's time to go home.”

***

John led her through the bunker, through the rabbit warren of corridors to another cell. He instructed her to wait outside the door while he went inside, and emerged a few minutes later with Whitehorse in tow. His shirt was stained with blood and ink, but she couldn't see any damage. He looked at her, then to John, who nodded once. The next thing she knew, Whitehorse wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I'm so sorry, Rook,” he whispered into her hair. “I should have listened.”

Mercy shook her head and returned his embrace. “It's okay, Sir,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

He stepped away from her and looked at John, who stroked his beard thoughtfully. “We'll have to get you a new shirt, I think, Sheriff…” John said before calling someone over and telling them to fetch a fresh shirt. They returned a few minutes later with the garment and handed it to Whitehorse. John smiled. “Wouldn’t want you going back to the jail looking like _that_.”

Whitehorse stepped back into the cell to get changed and re-emerged looking a little more like himself, yet still fearful. They followed John out of the bunker and to the surface, where they were greeted by Brother James. Whitehorse, she was told, would return to the jail to move the Resistance members out, with the intention to get them out of Hope County altogether. She’d had a brief conversation with him before they got in the cars that were waiting for them at the bunker entrance - he only said that he and John had “come to an agreement” and he would be returning to the prison to safely remove as many Resistance members from Hope County as possible. He agreed that he should have walked away like he wanted to do originally. When she asked him how he planned on convincing everyone to leave, he just smiled at her. He gave her one final hug before he was ushered into a vehicle and driven back to Henbane River, which left her standing next to a pickup truck with John and Brother James.

The three of them entered the vehicle - Brother James on the mounted gun - and started heading back to Seed Ranch. She’d tried asking John about the “agreement” on the drive back to the Ranch too, but he remained tight-lipped about it. “We had a little chat about your time away, and what the Resistance’s plans were, aside from their current “shoot everything that moves” one,” he said coolly. “That’s all.”

Mercy sighed and asked another question, one that had been bugging her since her first night in the jail. “What happened?” she asked. “Why did it take you so long to come for me?”

John snorted and looked at her. “At least I did come for you, Little Dove,” he said bemusedly. “Show some thanks.”

She raised a brow at him. “ _Thank you._ ” she replied sarcastically.

He smirked, but then his face fell and he turned his attention back to the road. “I thought they might have listened to you and let you go. Then I thought maybe you didn’t want to come back, even though I heard you yell are the Sheriff on the radio.”

“You heard me?” she asked incredulously.

John nodded. “When he addressed me using the radio, said thanks for letting you return… asshole. But then it went on for too long and I thought I’d just take you out of there whether you wanted to be there or not.”

She fixed him with a hard stare. “That sounds like you, just taking what you want, when you want it.”

He grinned at her. “Yes.”

Mercy bit her lip and nodded. “Well… thank you. I’m glad you did.”

“I’m glad I did, too.”

They were silent for the remainder of the trip. Butterflies beat wildly in her stomach as they approached the Ranch and drove down the long driveway, past the fields and the _Y E S_ sign before stopping neatly at the front of the house. The three of them got out of the car, and John placed a hand on her shoulder briefly.

“I need to call Joseph and sort a few things out. Why don’t you go inside?”

“Alright,” she said, before turning to Brother James. She stepped towards him and gave him a brief hug. “Thank you.”

He smiled and placed his hand on the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”

Mercy stepped away from them and turned to go into the house. She was sore and tired, so immediately went upstairs, into John’s quarters and straight to the shower. She slowly peeled off her clothes, throwing them onto the floor haphazardly and stepped into the hot spray. The scalding water stung the cuts on her side but she didn’t care, she was enjoying the feeling of being alone. After so many weeks of feeling like a zoo attraction in the prison cell, it felt good to just be by herself. She pressed her forehead to the tiled wall and choked back a sob, the events of the past seven weeks finally catching up with her, combined with sheer _relief_ at being back at the Ranch, where she felt safe. She stood there, breathing hard, trying to reign in her emotions, but failed and ended up beating her fist hard against the wall, screaming out in anguish. Slowly she regained her composure enough to wash the dried blood from her skin, watching the red and brown flecks disappear down the drain. Turning off the water, she wrapped herself in a towel, drying herself off as much as she could before stepping back into the bedroom with the intention of looking for clean clothes.

John stood in front of her, his shirt and shoes already off, one hand on his belt. “I was going to join you in the shower,” he said, his voice soft, dangerous. “But this will do.” He stepped towards her and grabbed her by the throat, pushing her against the wall next to the bathroom door and making her drop the towel in surprise. His mouth was on hers immediately, his tongue sliding between her lips with ease. Mercy gripped his wrist with one hand, her other pressing against his chest, trapped between his body and the wall. Desire flared up in the pit of her belly, and she raised one leg to kick against the wall, forcing him to stumble back onto the bed.

He scooted back onto the bed smoothly, allowing her to straddle him. Mercy leaned down and kissed him again, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth before biting into it and making him moan. She moved her mouth to his neck, then his collarbone, running her tongue along his skin just under the bone. Slowly, she moved down further, flattening her tongue and running it over his nipple, then continuing down further still, over his stomach, placing one final kiss below his navel. Reaching out, Mercy grasped his belt and undid it before unzipping his jeans. John raised his hips and helped her get them off, finally laying naked before her, cock twitching in anticipation. She eyed him thoughtfully, leaning forwards to take him into her mouth, smirking to herself as she heard him groan and felt his body relax, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder, the other clutching the blanket next to him. She stayed there for a few minutes, bobbing up and down gently, flicking her tongue over his swollen head, before he sat up and grabbed her under the neck, pulling her away and back up to him. He pulled her forwards, latching onto the tattoo on her collarbone, sucking hard enough to bruise. She shifted her hips towards his and reached between them, stroking him firmly, but her impatience got the better of her and she lined him up, sinking down over him too quickly in her eagerness.

Mercy paused briefly, closing her eyes and whimpering softly as she adjusted to him again, finally, after so many weeks apart. John froze, groaning against her chest, the mouthful of skin he had between his teeth escaping with a soft _pop_. He mumbled something against her skin but she couldn’t understand him, so she silenced him with a kiss, pressing her lips to his firmly. She started to rock against him, trying to keep her movements steady and controlled. Her hands rested on his shoulders and she pushed him to lie back before sliding them down to his chest to keep herself balanced. John followed her silent command, hands moving down her sides, brushing the still raw cuts of _YES_ he’d engraved earlier. Mercy finally felt like she was in control, like she had the power over him and she grinned to herself as she rose up and slammed her hips back to his, moving her hips in a small circle before rising up again. John's eyes were closed, hands resting on her hips and she took delight in the way he looked beneath her, chest rising and falling quickly, brow creasing slightly as he pushed his hips up to meet hers, tongue pinched between his teeth. Without warning, he leaned up and pushed her off him onto her back. He hovered over her, pushing her legs apart, one hand grasping her throat again. Her breath caught in her throat as he started driving himself into her mercilessly, nipping at her shoulder. She placed one hand on his wrist again and he growled before kissing her roughly.

“Don’t fucking try to leave again,” he panted into her ear, his fingers around her throat constricting. She wrapped her legs around his hips and shook her head as much as she was able.

“Harder,” she gasped, bringing her other hand to hold his bicep, holding on as tightly as she could, spurring him on. He leaned his forehead against hers and came quickly, gasping her name as he gave himself to her.

Feeling him shudder against her forced Mercy to follow and she let out a strangled cry as she came, his fingers still locked tightly around her neck. He hovered above her, not moving, as she writhed beneath him, riding her orgasm out around him. Eventually, she calmed down enough to open her eyes and look at him. He was staring at her intently, still breathing heavily, and eventually removed his hand from her throat, rolling to lie beside her. She turned into him immediately, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and bringing her arm across his chest to hold him tightly.

She wouldn't leave again. She couldn't.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Smut, torture, John being an asshat, this chapter has it all, folks.

Mercy felt like she hadn’t left the bed in days. Were clothes even necessary anymore? John had barely left her alone since they got back to the Ranch and they only left the bedroom to shower or get something to eat. She smiled to herself as she thought about the first time she’d tried to go down to the kitchen, wrapped in the bedsheet because she was too lazy to get dressed. John had been asleep and her stomach was growling. Halfway through pouring herself a bowl of cereal, she felt his hands on her waist, tugging the sheet away from her body. His lips touched her shoulder briefly before he placed one hand on the base of her neck and pushed her gently forwards to lean over the bowl on the countertop, pressing himself against her. She moved the bowl back and rose to stand on her toes as he pushed himself into her, hands gripping her hips tightly. Her head dropped forwards, hands slipping on the smooth countertop as she tried to push back against him, eventually giving up and turning around to sit on the counter. He kissed her hungrily and any thoughts of eating she originally had were pushed from her mind as he fucked her in his kitchen.

She bit her lip as she stretched out on the bed, sighing happily. As far as she knew, her bowl of cereal was still sitting in the kitchen, untouched. She felt movement beside her and turned her head to see John looking at her, his head resting on his arm. “What are you so happy about?” he asked suspiciously.

She poked her tongue out at him. “I was just thinking about that bowl of cereal I’d started to pour… whenever that was. When was that?”

John looked at his watch briefly. “Three days ago,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Why?”

“I never got to eat it,” she shrugged. He scooted closer to her and grasped her waist, leaning in to press his lips against the side of her exposed breast. “No, stop it! God, don’t you ever tire?”

He chuckled and pulled away. “For you? Never. But you’re right, there’s no time. We have things to do.”

She looked at him curiously. “Like what?”

He groaned as he sat up. Mercy watched him stretch, his back facing her, and resisted the urge to pull him back down and fuck him senseless again. “You’ll see,” he replied simply, heading into the bathroom. She heard the shower running and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes in a haze of contentment. The past few days had been a blur of nudity and pleasure, but John had mentioned a few things that piqued her curiosity. One, there was a church service she had to partake in, but he wasn’t sure when yet; and two, he had contacted Jacob and asked him if she could visit Pratt. She’d also asked him if he’d heard from the Sheriff, but he only shook his head in response. Thoughts of Pratt and the Resistance constantly nagged her, but she knew she was helpless to do anything.

He hadn’t asked her to repeat her confession of love, nor had he returned it, but she didn’t expect him to. He _was_ extraordinarily affectionate towards her in a way he hadn’t been before, which made her think perhaps that was his way of showing it, if he would or could not tell her what he was feeling. She meant what she said though, even if she hadn’t planned on saying it out loud - she did love him, as bizarre as it was, and her time away from him, missing him while she was held by the Resistance, made her realise it. It didn't make sense - he was often cruel, sadistic, heartless… but he also showed her incredible compassion and opened her eyes to a different world, introducing shades of grey to her black and white views.

Sighing, she extracted herself from the sheets and quietly opened the bathroom door. John’s back was to her and she hoped he hadn’t heard her come in. As silently as she could, she crept towards the shower and opened the glass door. He was shampooing his hair, completely oblivious to her. She waited for him to rinse his hair before she encircled his waist with her arms, pressing her chest against his back. He stiffened slightly and she saw his right hand ball into a fist before he realised it was her.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, turning his head to look at her. “You’re obviously still good at sneaking around.”

She laughed, releasing him enough so he could turn around. “It got me in here in the first place, didn’t it?” she grinned up at him.

He nodded, dipping his head to kiss her, turning her so she was under the water. His hand travelled down to cup her breast, tugging gently on her nipple. She pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. “I thought you said there was no time?”

John shrugged. “This isn’t my fault, you brought this on yourself,” he said harshly, kissing her again.

***

After a shower that went for far too long, Mercy found herself at the shooting range at the front of Seed Ranch, standing next to John. He stood quietly for a moment before he removed his pistol from its holster and held it out to her.

“Go on, then.” he said, looking at her with his brows raised.

“What?” she asked, eyeing the gun warily.

He shook the gun slightly. “Well you’re out of practice, aren’t you? Can’t help defend our cause if you’re a lousy shot. Keep up, Dep.”

Mercy took the pistol from him and immediately saw him lying on the ground in front of Hope County Jail, covered in blood. She dropped the pistol on the ground and stepped away from it. He stooped to pick it up and held it out for her again.

“Take the pistol, Deputy.”

She shook her head as if to shake the memory from her mind, but it wouldn’t budge. _John lying on the ground, covered in blood, the look of fear that flashed across his face when she pulled his pistol from its holster. The feeling of betrayal and regret when she shot Whitehorse._

John was starting to lose his patience. “For fuck’s sake, take the damn gun!”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, taking the pistol from him and turning away to face the targets. She took her usual stance, lined up the target and squeezed the trigger. The shot was loud, and before she knew it there was a neat little hole near the centre of the target. All she could picture was shooting Whitehorse. She shot again, and again, and again until she’d emptied the clip and the target had eight new holes in it. She lowered her arms, breathing hard.

John plucked the pistol out of her hand and reloaded it before passing it back. “Again.”

She shook her head. “Really, I think I’m fine, I hit the target-”

“ _Again_.”

She pursed her lips and lined the target up, putting another eight rounds in it. Once more he filled it up and passed it back to her.

“Again.”

Her patience was wearing thin. “Why are you making me do this?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice even.

“Just shoot the fucking target.”

She fired off seven rounds before he lunged at her, knocking her to the ground. She elbowed him in the cheek, stunning him, and used that moment to push him off her and onto his back. She straddled his hips and fired off the last round into the air before holding the now-empty pistol under his chin.

“What the fuck?” she asked angrily.

John laughed, hands up and palms facing her. “Just testing you,” he said, still grinning. He sat up, leaning back on one hand. “I haven’t exactly been _trusting_ of you with weapons during your time here. But if you’re going to _stay_ here, then you’ll need to help.” He reached up and pushed the pistol away from his chin slowly. “And you’re obviously not a threat to me considering you fired off the last round _and then_ put the gun under my chin.”

“Of course I’m not a fucking threat to you!” she yelled angrily, breathing hard. She sat there for a few minutes to calm herself, glaring at him. Finally, she calmed down enough to question him. “Help? What do you mean by that?”

“What did you think you were going to do?” he asked her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, eyes narrowed slightly. “Stay locked up here? Help make clothes and sort food? No. If you’re staying here then we’ll put your skills to use. And I happen to know you’re pretty good with a gun.”

She put the pistol down beside them and moved her hips so she was sitting back on his thighs. “How would you know that?”

He gave her one of those smiles that didn’t meet his eyes. “Do you know how many of my men you killed? Besides, that outpost you took had security cameras everywhere. I’ve seen the footage, multiple times, of you taking down twenty men single-handed. You could teach our soldiers a thing or two.”

The corners of her mouth curled up and she looked away towards the targets. She licked her lips thoughtfully before she looked back at him. “What else have you got?”

John called for someone to bring more items down to them and Mercy spent the rest of the afternoon reacquainting herself with various weapons - pistols, rifles, even explosives. She hadn’t thought about what she would do once she agreed to stay, but appreciated having something to focus on. That afternoon was the beginning of her new job at the Ranch. She spent time with Brother James nearly every day, training new recruits that were brought in by John. She noticed the majority of these new recruits had _WRATH_ tattoos, and none of them were marked with _PRIDE_. She asked Brother James about it after a training session a week after she was brought back from the Resistance.

“The wrathful can be trained,” he explained as he picked up his rifle and inspected it. “We can hone that wrath, use it to our advantage to protect our people. The ones who are exceptionally skilled will go to Jacob for further training. The prideful, however… they spend time in Joseph’s compound first.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged. “The first thing they need to learn is that they are not above God or above the Father. They stay at the compound for as long as it takes for them to learn that lesson.”

They started to walk towards the main house together. “How do they do that?”

He looked at the sky thoughtfully. “Do you remember, at the compound, the beds towards the back in the fenced-off area?” She nodded. She hadn’t seen anyone in there while she was there, but did wonder why there were beds outside on the ground. He gave her a pointed look and it hit her. That’s where the prideful went. Put them at the bottom to break them of their pride. She shook her head slightly - she was never going to understand all of their ways.

He left her at the house and she went inside to find John sitting at the table going through paperwork. His brow was furrowed in concentration. He had a laptop sitting to his left and a stack of paper in front of him, but she couldn’t make out what was on the laptop screen. She sat opposite him and looked at her hands thoughtfully, thinking of those prideful people, and the scars that marked that very sin on her hip. That pride that got her kidnapped by the Resistance. That got her kidnapped by the Project. She slumped forwards and put her face in her hands.

She heard the laptop close. “What’s wrong?” John asked her sharply.

Mercy shook her head. “Nothing, just thinking about a conversation I had with Brother James about our new recruits and why none of them are marked with “Pride”, that’s all.”

John smirked. “Ah yes, Pride… well, you know all about that don’t you?” She glared at him and said nothing. “Well you don't have to worry about that now. I have a surprise for you.”

She stood up and followed him cautiously, unsure what to expect. They went outside, John practically running to the door. They stepped through as two Project members pulled a man out of the tray of a pickup that had just pulled up. His hands were cuffed behind his back and he had a black bag over his head. He was clearly trying to talk, but he sounded like he was gagged. He was forced to his knees on the ground and tried to struggle against his captors unsuccessfully. John stepped towards him and pulled the bag dramatically from his head.

Mercy froze. It was Mick. He looked at John, then at her and his eyes widened in recognition. He started to struggle again but was knocked sideways as John decked him. “Surprise!” he said gleefully, turning to face her, holding his arms wide, an enormous grin plastered on his face. “Thought you might like to exact a little _revenge_.”

She didn’t know how to react. “Uh… no, it’s fine-” she stuttered, but he cut her off.

“It’s not _fine_ ,” he spat, his face contorting from a look of excitement to one of rage in a heartbeat. He grabbed Mick’s hair and dragged him up to kneel before him. “What he did to you isn’t _fine_. He must atone.” He stepped back and cocked his head to the side. “Take him to the hangar,” he instructed the Project members. They watched him being dragged off before she turned on him.

“Was this part of your agreement with Whitehorse?” she hissed at him.

“Not originally,” he said delicately. “But after you told me what he did, I couldn’t just let him _get away_ with it. So I asked the dear Sheriff to deliver him to me, or I’d have Hope County Jail destroyed with everyone in it before they evacuate.”

She rolled her eyes and clenched her fists in frustration. “You can’t keep threatening people to get what you want! I don't want to hurt him, I don't want to be anywhere _near_ him. What are you going to do with him now?”

He looked her bemusedly and grasped her upper arms, bringing his face close to hers. “Can’t I?” he asked, his voice low, eyes burning into hers.

Of course he could. He’d done it multiple times, and she suspected he’d keep doing it. That was who he was. He dragged her towards the hangar where they found Mick on his knees, chained to a post. John stepped towards him and removed the gag from his mouth.

“ _What the fuckin’ fuck?_ ” Mick shouted. “The fuck are you people doin’?”

John laughed coldly. He’d slipped back into his old persona, John the Inquisitor. Cold, calloused, sadistic, _dangerous_. “You didn’t tell me he was a redneck, darling,” he grinned, looking at her. He walked to stand behind her, placing his hands on her hips and slowly forced her to walk towards the man chained up before them, coming to stop a few feet away from him. 

Mick started to struggle against his bonds again and glared at her. “I knew you were fuckin’ this Peggie cunt,” he spat. “Shoulda fucked you and killed you when I had the chance. I told the Sheriff you was trouble.” 

John placed a soft kiss on her cheek, then her neck and she closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She was brought back to reality by Mick coughing at the kiss and she sneered down at him. He disgusted her in every possible way, she had forgotten how repulsive he was. John released her and crouched down next to Mick, gripping the front of his shirt roughly. “Apologize to the lady,” he said gently. Mick spat at John, spittle hitting him on the cheek. John merely chuckled, producing a handkerchief from his vest pocket and wiping his cheek before he punched Mick square in the jaw. “I said _apologize_.” 

Mick spat blood onto the ground and fixed her with a hard stare. “Fuck you.” 

John grinned and nodded, looking at the floor before releasing Mick and standing up. He walked to the side door of the hangar and she saw him speak to someone briefly before he closed the door again, returning with a hunting knife. He used it to cut Mick’s shirt open and then knelt before him, pressing the tip of the blade against his right pec. “One more chance, sinner,” he said lightly. Mick remained silent, so John pushed the tip of the blade into his skin. She inhaled sharply, unable to tear her eyes away from Mick’s chest where blood was starting to run down from the point where the knife punctured his skin. She shifted uncomfortably and absent-mindedly touched the scars on her hip as she thought of John doing the same thing to her all those months ago. Mick still said nothing, so John dragged the knife in a short diagonal line, pointing to the middle of Mick’s chest. John had gotten as far as carving _S I N N_ into Mick’s skin before he finally called for a reprieve. 

“Okay, okay, I’m fuckin’ sorry, alright!” he screamed. “For the love of God, stop!” 

John withdrew the knife and sat back on his heels. “What are you sorry for?” he asked sweetly. 

Mick looked at him fearfully. “I’m sorry for trying to fuck yer girlfriend!” 

John shook his head and _tsk_ ed at him. “No, I don’t think that’s what you want to apologize for. Try again.” He pressed the knife into Mick’s chest once more. 

She stood there silently, watching the brute start shaking with fear. “I don’t understand-” he started. 

“What was it you tried to do?” John asked. “Come on, you’re a big boy. Use your big boy words.” He pressed the knife in again and started to slowly drag it down, starting to form the _E_. 

Mick shook his head. “No, no, no, please!” he cried. “Please stop! I’m sorry!” 

John tensed and pressed the knife in again. “What are you sorry for, Mickey?” he asked gleefully, watching the man writhe in pain. 

Mick was openly crying now, tears and mucus dripping down his face, mixing into the cuts on his chest. “I’m sorry I tried to rape her!” he choked. 

John quickly and skillfully finished his work, allowing the knife to drop to the floor and then clapped loudly before pressing his fingers into the cuts, adding extra insult to the injuries. Mercy stood against the wall, hugging herself, looking at the word _SINNER_ John had cut into Mick’s chest. He took Mick’s face in his hands, leaving bloody handprints on his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t apologize to me, you idiot,” he said. “To _her_.” 

She met Mick’s gaze uneasily. “I’m sorry,” he said pathetically, bottom lip shaking. “I’m sorry I tried to rape you.”

She nodded and swallowed hard. “I forgive you,” she whispered. 

John stood and rinsed his hands in a bowl of water on the bench next to her, then turned her to face him and kissed her deeply. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked Mick before kissing her again. “You might not want to be here for the next bit, Little Dove,” he murmured against her lips. “He and I still have some things to sort out.” 

She pulled back and nodded - she’d seen enough. More than enough. John pulled his radio scanner out of his pocket and called for Brother James, who was knocking on the door within minutes to escort her out. She looked at them both sadly one last time before following Brother James out of the hangar, listening to Mick’s scream of agony. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response I've had to this has been overwhelming, 7000 views in just a couple of weeks is insane. Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and commented, I really love to see what people think :)

“There’s nothing you can do,” shrugged Brother James as he sat next to her on the balcony. They'd been sitting there for about an hour, Mercy glancing darkly at the hangar from time to time. “He tried to hurt you, tried to hurt something John cares about, so John will take his revenge.”

She shook her head and looked towards the hangar again. The screaming stopped a while ago, whether that was because Mick was gagged again or because he was dead, she didn’t know. “He doesn’t deserve that though,” she said softly.

Brother James reached out and grasped her shoulder, forcing her attention to him. “Think about it. The Resistance mows down our people in cold blood every chance they get. The Whitetail Militia up north kidnap and torture our people all the time. That’s the way war works. And honestly? That man in there, if you could call him that, is a predator and a threat. What if he tried that on another woman, a woman not as brave as you? Would she have deserved the horrors he would inflict on her?”

She looked at him sadly. “No,” she agreed, averting her gaze. He made a good point, and there was little point dwelling on the what-ifs. “Who are the Whitetail Militia?” she questioned.

He rolled his eyes slightly and shook his head. “Another group of Resistance fighters in the Whitetail Mountains. They’ve been giving Jacob a hard time recently,” he said. “They’re well organised, I’ll give them that. I did ask John if I could go up there and help, but he wants me to stay here. So does my wife.” 

“Will I meet her?” she asked him. “You speak of her often.”

He nodded. “Soon, I expect. At the church service, whenever that will be. We’re yet to hear from Joseph. She moves between here and Joseph’s compound with the children, depending on where she’s needed. She’ll be on her way back home now, I expect.” He looked at his watch.

The hangar door opened and John walked out, whistling to himself. He looked relaxed and happy as he sauntered towards the house. As he got closer, Mercy could see he was covered in blood, almost like he’d had a bucket full of it thrown onto him. It splattered his face, his arms his chest, it was soaked into his clothes. He almost looked like an extra from a horror movie. If he saw her sitting on the balcony, he didn’t show it. She watched him disappear from view as he entered the house.

Brother James stood. “Speaking of my wife coming home, I’d best be off to meet her. Have a nice night - and don’t be too mad with John.”

She gaped after him as he opened the balcony door. _Don’t be too mad with John._ How could she not be mad with him? He’d just tortured someone who barely touched her, _because_ he’d touched her. _But it could have gone further if you hadn’t have stopped him._ a voice in her head reasoned. She shuddered at the thought, images from nightmares she’d had about that very thing coming to mind. She shook herself roughly, trying to shake the memories away.

John opened the balcony door dramatically. He looked even worse up close, and she realised in horror that some of that blood must have been his. He had a split lip and a bruise coming up near one eye. “Miss me?” he grinned, his teeth stained with blood from the cut on his lip.

She looked at him in horror. “What did you _do_?” she asked, mortified.

He stood facing her and leaned on the balcony rail, turning his head towards the hangar. There was a streak of blood down the side of his neck. She followed his gaze to see two people carrying a black body bag out of the hangar. Dead. Mick was dead. John had killed him. She turned back to him, mouth agape.

He was grinning at her. “He put up a good fight,” he said. “Not as good as you, but his punch was harder.” She had a flashback to the day he’d stormed into her cell demanding she fight him. There was no reasoning with him about this. This was something that happened frequently, on both sides of this battle, and she had to accept that. She stood up and walked towards him, reaching out to take one of his bloody hands in hers and led him back inside, into the bathroom. She turned on the water while he stood and watched her. “Are you going to join me?” he asked in a low voice, looking like he was ready to pounce.

“No,” she said, reaching for his vest and starting to undo it. “You’re going to have a shower and I’m going to-”

He leaned down and kissed her gently, leaving her lips bloody. “It had to be done,” he said, looking down at her. “I couldn’t let him live.”

She nodded and gave him a weak smile, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. He fished in his pocket and handed her his radio, before stepping back from her and starting on the buttons on his shirt. “I’m expecting to hear from Jacob,” he said simply, any trace of softness gone. “Let me know if he radios through.”

She took the radio and headed for the door, giving him one last look as he dropped his shirt to the floor before she headed downstairs. She turned the radio over in her hands thoughtfully as she sat on the couch. It was possible he would have tried that on another woman. It was possible he’d done it before she was at the jail. She didn’t know. She didn’t know him, or what his story was, what his life had been like. All she knew is that she had been there to witness the end of his life. She had been the _cause_ of it. As she pondered what this meant, and what it meant for her future in the Project, the radio crackled to life.

“John, it’s Jacob. Over.”

An army man through and through. “Jacob, it’s Mercy here. John isn’t available at the moment. Can I pass on a message? Over.”

There was a brief pause. “Just tell John to contact me when he’s available. Over.”

She frowned. “I’m here whether you like it or not,” she said, trying to keep the anger from her voice. “You can trust me to relay whatever message you have. Over.”

Another pause. “Alright, pup. You can come and see your little friend whenever you like. Just let me know when you’re coming. Over.”

Her stomach flipped and she gasped. Finally, she could see Pratt. She nodded a few times, trying to regain her composure. “Thank you. I’ll tell John. Over.”

Jacob said nothing more. She stood up quickly and bolted back up the stairs and into the bedroom just as John stepped through in from the bathroom. He was naked and was rubbing his towel through his hair, the cloth completely covering his head so he couldn’t see her. She bounded towards him in her excitement and ripped the towel from his hands. He stopped and looked at her in surprise, his hair a spiky mess around his face.

“We can see Staci,” she grinned up at him. “Jacob called through, said we can go and see him. When can we leave?”

He simply stood and stared at her before snatching the towel from her hand and brushing past, running his free hand through his hair to try and smooth it down. She watched him walk to the wardrobe and start pulling on clothes. Her face fell - of course he wouldn’t care about seeing Pratt. He finished pulling on his boots and then turned to face her, cocking his head to the side.

“We can go in a few days,” he said finally. “There are a few things I need to sort out here, first. I’ll need to organise James to come with us too.”

She stepped towards him to give him a hug of thanks when she heard a car screech to a halt outside, followed by yelling. She glanced out the window. It was dusk, who could that be? They left the room and went downstairs to find Brother James running into the house. “They’ve got her,” he panted. “They’ve got her and the kids. This was nailed to the door.”

He handed John a piece of paper, which he scanned quickly and dropped to the floor, immediately walking outside with Brother James in tow. She bent to pick up the paper and scanned its hastily scribbled note.

“We have your family, Peggie scum. They’re with the Resistance at Gardenview Packing if you wanna try and get them, we'll be waiting. FUCK PEGGIES!”

She screwed the note up and clenched her fist around it, following them out of the house. She found them standing by the car Brother James had used to get to the Ranch and she came to a stop next to them. She looked at Brother James determinedly. “What can I do to help?” she asked.

John scoffed. “You can’t do anything.”

“ _Excuse me_ ,” she glared at him. “You said you want me to put my skills to use, well here I am. What do you want me to do?”

He looked at her and licked his lips, narrowing his eyes at her. “Actually, you might come in handy. You might get in there unseen.” He turned to look at Brother James. “Gather your men, prepare to attack the packing facility. Take her with you. She's stealthy - let her go in first.”

Brother James nodded once and turned on his heel to make preparations. John turned to her and grasped her shoulders. “Get his family out of there alive and return to me.”

She nodded and placed one hand on his chest. “I will.”

***

John had wanted her to wear heavy gunner armor but she refused. “How do you expect me to creep in if I look like a sixteenth-century knight?” she'd asked. He conceded, but asked her to at least wear a bulletproof vest, which she agreed to. Now she was sneaking up to the Gardenview Packing Facility, as she'd done before, except this time it was a rescue mission and she was on the other side of the war. She approached the building from the north. If her memory served her correctly, there was a zip line that connected to the roof of the main building. She crept closer and grinned to herself. It was still there, just as she remembered. She stared down the scope of her rifle, relaying what she saw to Brother James, who was organising his men to surround the site.

“Two on the north side near the veranda,” she said quietly into the receiver. “One next to the little shed to the west and… at least one at the front of the main building to the east. Can’t see south, or inside.”

The radio crackled to life. “Don’t worry about that, we have it covered. There’s one in the building apparently. Do what you need to, we’ll wait for your mark.”

She took a deep breath and checked the silencer on her gun. She hooked onto the zip line and travelled to the roof, dropping to her stomach immediately so as not to be seen. She crawled on her stomach to the edge and peeked over. The two guards were still on the north side, but they had not seen her. She crawled slowly back to the open window behind her and jumped through deftly onto the suspended walkway, before crouching low and looking over the sides.

“No one in the building that I can see,” she said softly. “I’m going down.”

There was a ladder next to her, so she slid down onto another platform before dropping to the floor and hiding under the platform, behind the stairs, facing east. There was a door to her left which opened and a Resistance fighter walked out. She could hear children crying as he opened the door. He didn’t say anything but another male voice came through the door before he closed and locked it.

“For fuck’s sake, get those brats to _shut up_!”

She screwed her nose up in disgust and pressed the button on her radio. “They’re in a locked room on the North side. At least one guard in there with them. Attempting to move in there now.”

Checking around her first, she crept towards the door and pulled a lockpick from her pocket. When she heard the lock click, she took a deep breath, stood up and charged through with her rifle raised. The two children were tied together on the floor in front of a wooden desk and Brother James’ wife was tied to a chair at the back of the room. One Resistance member was sitting in another chair next to her. Mercy charged at him without thinking, hitting him with the butt of her gun, but it wasn’t enough. He opened his mouth to yell and her reflexes kicked in. She raised her rifle and fired a single shot between his eyes. The children screamed as he fell to the floor.

Mercy stood there, looking at the body of the Resistance fighter slumped against the desk, blood oozing from the new hole in his forehead. What had she done? She wanted to do this with no casualties and broke her own rule.

Brother James’ wife brought her back to the present. “Are you Mercy?” she asked shakily.

Mercy looked at her, unable to understand the question. “What?”

“Are you Mercy?” the woman asked again.

“Oh, yes,” she said vaguely. “John sent me here to get you.” shaking her head, she pulled a knife from her boot and cut the woman’s bonds, then the children's. Once they were free, Mercy turned to the children first. “I need you to be super brave for your dad, okay? You’ll see him soon, but first I need you to hide under this desk. When I say “now” you’re going to come out and hold onto your mom’s hand and we’re all going to run out of that door. Stay close together, got it?” They nodded and scrambled under the desk, huddled together. She turned to the other woman and handed her the knife. “Stand on this box in the corner,” she said, indicating to the corner next to the door she’d just come through. “If anyone comes in, do _not_ hesitate to use this. Okay?” The woman nodded and moved into position. Mercy crept towards the north-facing door and pushed the button on her radio. “There’s a door facing north we’re going to come out of, but I need you to attack so we can get out. I’ll give you one minute after I hear the first gunfire, and then we’re coming out of that door.”

There was a brief pause before Brother James spoke. “Give me a minute to move to the north side. Will contact you again when I’m there.” She waited for what felt like forever, tapping her foot impatiently. “Okay, I’m in position. Everyone, move in!”

It didn’t take long for the first shots to sound and she looked at Brother James’ wife, giving her a quick nod and counting backwards from sixty.

“Sixty… fifty-nine… fifty-eight…”

A guard burst through the interior door and Brother James’ wife lunged at him, sinking the knife into his neck. Mercy sprung forwards towards him, pulling his body into the room and closing the door again before handing the bloody knife back. “Ah, um, you! Here!” she said, realizing she didn’t know the woman’s name.

“Anna,” the woman replied unevenly. “I’m Anna.”

Mercy nodded and moved back to the door.

“Twenty-five… twenty-four…”

She wiped her bloody hands on her jeans and picked up her rifle again, peeking out of the small window in the door. She couldn’t see anyone outside.

“Three… two… one… NOW!”

She watched the children scramble out from under the desk and hold onto Anna’s hand before she unlocked the door and stepped through first. She checked to her left, then her right, rifle raised. “Come on!” she hissed at them. There was a gap in the fence straight ahead of them and she pointed to it. “Get up there, straight up the hill!”

They followed her instruction immediately, she letting them go through first while she covered them from behind. As she stepped through the fence, someone yelled from behind her. “The traitor is over here!” the female voice said.

Mercy turned on the spot and looked at the woman, who was only a few feet away from her. “I’m sorry,” she said before she shot the woman twice in the chest and fled up the hill. She ran over the crest of the hill to find Anna and the children hiding in some bushes behind a tree with Brother James. He was trying his best to hold them all at once and she bit her lip. He looked up at her, tears in his eyes.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said. “I can’t repay you.”

She shook her head. “We don’t have time, we have to move.” she looked over her shoulder nervously. She could still hear gunfire behind her. They moved down the hill then turned east towards the road, picking their way cautiously through the apple orchard to the waiting car. They clambered into the vehicle, Mercy in the driver’s seat and she sped off, burning rubber as she went. “Ranch?” she asked sharply, looking at them in the rear vision mirror. Brother James nodded once.

She refocused, concentrating on the road, trying not to think of the two Resistance members she killed. The trip to the Ranch was short and she watched Brother James and his family get out of the car and talk to John. She thought she heard him tell them to stay at the Ranch tonight and then saw him approach out of the corner of her eye. He leaned on the car door casually, one arm in the open window.

“Coming inside?” he asked. She couldn’t move from the driver’s seat. Her fingers were locked onto the steering wheel and her eyes focused dead ahead of her, heart beating hard in her chest. He tried again. “Mercy? Are you coming inside?” _Yes I’m coming inside, if I can unlock my body._ she thought. He tried a third time. “Deputy! Are. You. Coming. In. Side?” He reached into the car, grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. When she finally raised her eyes to meet his, she bit her lip hard, trying to keep her emotions in check.

“I killed them,” she whispered. “I said no casualties and I killed them.”

He removed his hand from her chin and opened the car door. He reached in and dragged her out of the seat, setting her feet on the ground but supporting her with one arm. “Come on,” he said, leading her to a quad bike near the hangar. She climbed aboard shakily and he sat behind her, starting the bike up and taking her down to the little spot by the river where he’d first kissed her. He guided her to sit on one of the hay bales and knelt in the dirt before her, then leaned forward and took off the bulletproof vest, laying it down beside him on the ground before searching in her boot for the knife.

“Gave it to Anna,” she mumbled. “She killed one too, stabbed him in the neck. God, I made her a murderer.”

She couldn’t ignore his grin when she said that. He reached towards her again, gripping her hips and pulling her towards him so her legs were on either side of his ribs. “Tell me,” he said softly, still holding her hips, thumbs stroking her jeans. “Did you get this upset when you were killing _Peggies_?”

She shook her head. “No… but I had a different mindset then… I had a Resistance mindset. You were the enemy and you needed to be taken down at all costs. But those people… they could have been saved.”

He shrugged. “They would have killed you or had you killed. Or they would have killed James’ family. You saved them. A wife and two little kids. You’re a hero.” He gave her a dazzling smile.

The corners or her lips twitched, but she couldn’t reciprocate. “I don’t feel like a hero.”

He turned his head, looking at the river thoughtfully, before looking at her again and standing up. He started unbuttoning his vest. “Undress, Deputy,” he commanded, discarding the vest and working on his shirt buttons.

“What?”

“I said, undress. Or do I have to do it for you?”

His shirt was off quickly and he pulled off his shoes and socks. Confused, she stood and removed her shirt, then her shoes, finally shimmying out of her jeans. He stood before her in his usual black cotton boxers and grabbed her hand, tugging her towards the water. He stopped when she was waist-deep, the water lapping around his hips. He placed one hand between her shoulders and the other flat on her chest, guiding her backwards and under the water.

That was it. Just like the first time, she let go, allowing her body to float, letting his hands push the worries, the stress and the anxiety out of her into the river to be carried away. He lifted her enough for her to take a few gulps of air before he pushed her under again. It was glorious. She felt safe and free, weightless as the river held her body, anchored to John. Eventually, he pulled her up again. Eyes still closed, she took another deep lungful of air, expecting him to drop her into the water once more, but instead he leaned down and kissed her. She opened her eyes to find he’d ducked into the water so it was now around his chest, but his hands didn’t move.

“Feel better?”

“Yes.”

He grinned at her. “Good.”

She flailed a bit, trying to find her footing on the riverbed. He had other ideas and pulled her up to face him, bringing her legs around his hips. She held onto his shoulders and she smiled at him gently. “I’m sorry,” she said eventually. “But you’ll be pleased to know I still have great aim.”

He chuckled. “I don’t doubt that.” He pulled her closer, his chin resting on her shoulder, beard tickling her skin. “We’ll go up to see Jacob the day after tomorrow, once things with James have settled down. I’ve told him he and his family can stay at the Ranch as long as they need. Joseph has been made aware, he said to thank you for your efforts.”

“You're welcome," she said simply, letting him go and kicking back into the water. She swam to the other side and then back to him, diving under the water and grabbing one of his ankles. He lunged after her, trying to catch her as she splashed water at him as a deterrent. He caught her eventually, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him, pressing his lips to her shoulder. She put her head back against his shoulder and stared up at the dark sky.

Conflict and then calm, that was her life now. All she could do was enjoy this moment and wait for the next conflict to arrive.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, I found myself suddenly busy with life stuff and I haven't had time to write more than just dot points of ideas. There's a lot coming, I just need to expand on my ideas.
> 
> Anyway! Here's the next chapter.
> 
>  **Warning:** Smut, you know the drill.

Mercy watched in awe as the shiny black plane taxied out of the hangar and into her view. It must have been in the hangar when John was torturing Mick, but she was too preoccupied with other things to notice it. _How didn’t you notice a fucking plane,_ she thought to herself. John came and stood beside her, arms crossed over his chest. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he asked dreamily.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “It’s impressive, but it’s just a plane.”

He scoffed at her. “ _Just a plane,_ ” he mimicked. “Just a plane? She’s _more_ than just a plane. She’s _my_ plane.”

“And does _she_ have a name?” Mercy asked bemusedly.

He drew breath dramatically and motioned to the plane with one arm. “Affirmation.”

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Of course it is.” He smirked at her as they walked towards the plane and he boosted her up onto the wing to get into the gunner’s seat. She strapped herself in, putting on the headset and craned her neck to see him settling into the pilot’s seat.

“Can you hear me?” he asked her.

“Roger.” she replied. “Do I get to shoot the gun?”

“Don’t you dare,” he said quickly. “We’re going in unprotected and meeting Jacob’s men there. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t _shoot the gun_.”

“Aw, okay.”

He’d mentioned flying to her a few times during her time at the Ranch, and his eyes always lit up whenever he spoke about it.

_”It’s truly freeing, being up there, alone. It’s easy to forget about everything that’s trying to tie you down.”_ he’d said to her one day as they lay on the airstrip. 

Too soon they were off, high up in the air over Hope County. It was a beautiful sight, the buildings, cars and trees looked like little toys beneath her. She sat back in the seat and watched the Ranch get smaller and smaller, until it was obscured by the tree line. Everything looked new, and she was seeing more of Hope County than she’d ever seen after being there for nearly a year. _Nearly a year,_ she thought. _What happened to Christmas, or birthdays?_ She opened her mouth to ask him about why he didn't celebrate holidays, but changed her mind, deciding it was probably the wrong time to ask.

He started whistling to himself and she suppressed a laugh. The statue of Joseph came into view on her left, and she turned her head to study it. It was less intimidating in the daylight but still impressive, like a guardian watching over Hope County. But that’s what Joseph thought he was - a guardian, protector, shepherd, _Father_. Guiding people towards the light of God, protecting them from a nuclear war that may never come. She hadn’t seen Joseph nor heard from him since she left the compound, and wasn’t bothered too much by that. The thought of seeing Jacob, however, made her nervous. He clearly disliked and distrusted her, and she felt that she could do no right in his eyes. Her anxiety and nervousness started to build as they flew past Joseph’s compound, her mind filled with thoughts of Pratt. He’d taken her under his wing in the few weeks she’d been with them before they embarked on their mission to arrest Joseph. Younger than her by nearly two years and a tad taller, he was carefree and fun-loving, and dragged her out to parties and nightclubs, tearing down her walls of insecurity and seriousness. She smiled to herself as she remembered dancing with him at a gay bar while an attractive young man checked him out. She’d never been able to pick what his preference was, he was always shy about that.

The plane started to descend and eventually came down on a small airstrip, stopping in front of a plane hangar. Mercy waited for John to disembark before hopping out herself, stepping out onto the wing and taking his hand to jump to the ground. The trees were a lot thicker in this part of Hope County and the land was rocky and uneven. It reeked of adventure, and she had the urge to run into the trees and not look back. Without thinking, she took a step towards the treeline and John grabbed her wrist, pulling her back, giving her a warning look and shaking his head. They were greeted by three men in red balaclavas and long black coats, who shepherded them to a waiting truck without speaking. She sat in the back seat with John in silence, knotting her fingers nervously in her lap. In just a few minutes they were turning onto a dirt road with a sign proclaiming _St Francis Hospital_ on the right. The massive building came into view as they cruised down the driveway and Mercy dug her nails into the back of her right hand. John reached over and pulled her hand out of her lap, giving it a brief squeeze before pinning it to seat between them. She stared at the back of his hand and studied his tattoos, re-reading all of the sins inked into his skin.

_Luxuria, Gula, Avaritia…_

Suddenly the car stopped and he removed his hand, opening the car door and climbing out. She sat frozen for a moment as he opened her door, then leaned down to look at her. “Coming?”

Her legs felt like jelly as she stood and followed him to the double doors at the front of the enormous building. She looked over her shoulder briefly and immediately wished she hadn’t. The area behind her to the left was littered with cages, some empty, some with wolves in them, some with _people_ in them. She turned to face them and swallowed hard. What was Jacob doing? Was Pratt in one of those cages? A man grabbed the side of the cage he was in, faced her and bared his teeth like a wild dog, his eyes ravenous, savage. He made guttural noises and spittle flew from his mouth. She found herself transported to another place, being locked up in a dark room, tied to a chair, John’s face mere inches from hers, his fingers wrapped around her throat:

_”I’m going to open you and pour your worst fears inside and as you choke, your sins will reveal themselves. Only then will you truly understand the Power of Yes.”_

She had escaped that day, but ended up trapped in that bunker anyway-

John forced her to turn back to the door, pressing his ear to her mouth. “Do not look, just ignore them,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. She wanted to back away from him, tear herself from his grip and get out of there. He gave her a puzzled look. “What’s wrong?”

She merely shook her head as the door opened and they were escorted inside by another red balaclava-wearing man. _Pull yourself together._ They followed him up two flights of stairs and came to a stop before another door. The man knocked twice and waited.

“Come in.”

He opened the door and stepped back. John grabbed the back of her shirt in his fist and gently nudged her forwards through the door. To their right stood Jacob, his hand holding Pratt’s shirt collar. Pratt looked the same, yet so much different. His eyes were dark and sunken, he had bruises on his face and arms, he was skinnier… he looked _broken_. He twitched when he saw her, their eyes locking and she wanted nothing more than to run to him but she couldn’t because of John’s damn hand holding her shirt. They all stood in silence for a moment before Jacob spoke.

“Go on, pup.”

He let Pratt’s shirt go the same time John released hers, and he hesitated for a moment before he bolted towards her. She met him in the middle and they crashed into each other hard, sinking to the floor in a tight embrace. His hold on her was suffocating, but she suspected she was doing the same to him, eyes squeezed shut tight, not wanting to let him go.

“You’re alive,” she finally managed to choke out. “You’re alive.”

She felt him nod and he somehow managed to pull her in closer, pressing his face against her shoulder. “You’re really here,” he said, muffled against her shirt. “God, I never thought I’d see you again.” His voice was deeper, almost dull and he eventually pulled away, cupping her face in his hands and studying it closely. “Your hair is longer,” he said, and she laughed.

“So is yours.” She put her hands over his. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled at her then, but it looked awkward, almost hard for him to do.

Mercy had forgotten about John and Jacob until she saw John in her peripheral vision, walking to stand beside his brother, both of them leaning against the desk with their arms crossed. She looked at Pratt again and dropped her voice. “Are you alright?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He gave no indication one way or the other, just stared at the floor. “I’m alive,” he said at last. “And you’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

“I have some business to discuss with my brother,” Jacob said suddenly, interrupting them and walking with John to the door. He turned and looked at Pratt. “ _Stay_.”

John looked at her briefly, his face blank and expressionless, before stepping out of the room. Jacob closed the door behind them and she heard it lock. She finally released Pratt and stood, but he stayed on the floor. She held her hands out to him to help him up, but he shook his head.

“He told me to stay,” he said weakly, gesturing around him lamely. “So this is where I’ll stay until he gets back.”

She frowned. “You’re not a dog, Staci. You’re a human being! Come on, get up.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand the way he works. I have to stay.”

She frowned and sat in front of him again, crossing her legs and placing her hands on his knees. “Tell me.”

So he did. He told her about the helicopter crash at Joseph’s compound, how he was knocked out and woke up in a cage with a collar around his neck. She recoiled in horror as he described the conditioning Jacob put him through, and how despite not being what he described as a “suitable candidate”, Jacob had seen fit to keep him around as a personal assistant.

“I have to get you out of here,” she said frantically, standing again and trying to pull him up. He remained where he was and didn’t look at her.

“No you don’t. He’s right. I was weak. He’s made me stronger. The weak must be culled.”

“Fuck off,” she spat, tugging desperately on his arm again. “This is madness, come _on_!”

He tore his arm from her grasp and shoved her away when she tried to grab him again. “I belong here, Mercy,” he said sharply. “This is my home.” She closed her eyes, leaning against one of the desks in the middle of the room and hugged herself. He continued. “He starting asking me personal questions when I was shaving him,” he said. “Asking me if I had a girlfriend, then if I had a boyfriend. Where did I grow up, how long have I been in the force, do I have siblings, stuff like that. And then one day when I came in to take away his lunch tray, he kissed me.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

He shrugged. “That was months ago, I don’t know how long… anyway. Now I’m his pet, slash personal assistant, slash… yeah. I don’t know. But I’m alive. When he told me John had captured you, I thought for sure you were going to die. I’d met John a few times when he came to tattoo the Chosen - Jacob’s specialist fighters.” he added, catching her puzzled look. “He marks all of them. He just struck me as cruel and sadistic. I heard him mention you and Hudson a few times, tell Jacob how he was going to break you.”

She looked at the floor. “I suppose he succeeded, in a way,” she mumbled.

“But you’re still here. How?”

Just as he had for her, she told him her story. Meeting Dutch, following his orders to try and reclaim Holland Valley first, capturing the first outpost single-handed, and how she made John’s home her next target, thinking it’d hurt the Resistance more if she could take it from their control. How that plan backfired when she was captured, what it was like being locked in the bunker, tortured, abandoned. She showed him her tattoo and the scar for _PRIDE_ on her hip, some of the souvenirs of her time there. She continued, telling him about her confession, Joseph’s proposition, her time at the Ranch, how she started to see John more and more as a man instead of her enemy.

“Did you sleep with him?” he asked darkly.

Mercy nodded, showing him her other hip, where John had marked her with _LUST_. He just looked at her and listened as she continued to tell him about her meeting with Whitehorse, John getting shot, her fleeing the compound to try and fix things and getting taken by the Resistance instead. He was visibly upset at her description of her treatment by the Resistance, especially Whitehorse and Hudson. As she relayed her story to him, the more ridiculous it sounded, especially when she told him about Joseph’s vision. She finally ended her story, telling him how she rescued Anna and the children, how John had helped her in the aftermath when she was upset about killing the Resistance members. She was on the Project’s side now, just like Pratt was. Anna and her children were _her_ people.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke. “Do you love him?”

She looked away from him and gave a small nod. “Yes. I know I probably shouldn’t. I know what kind of person he is. He can be like Jekyll and Hyde, one minute he’s John the Baptist, the next he’s passionate and giving. But… I don’t know. I do. I feel a connection with him that I haven’t found in anyone else. He probably doesn’t feel the same way, and that’s fine. I can cope with that.”

“Can you? What happens if he gets bored of you?”

“Then I’ll leave.”

“You mean you’ll die. There’s no leaving here for us, Mercy. We’re here for the rest of our lives, however long those lives might be.”

She swallowed hard. “I know,” she said softly, looking out the window. He had a good point - if John got bored of her, she was probably as good as dead, and she hadn’t thought of that. The light was fading fast as the idea of her potential fate swirled around in her head. “I don’t want to leave you, I wish I could take you back to the Ranch.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “That would be nice. If I’m a good boy maybe I can come and visit you.”

“Don’t say that-”

He held up his hand. “It’s fine. I’ve made peace with it. He's not all bad, you just need to know how to please him.”

She shifted to sit next to him and put her head on his shoulder, reaching out to hold his hand. They stayed like that for a long time, until the room was completely dark. Finally, the lock on the door clicked and the Seed brothers stepped through. Jacob turned on the light, temporarily blinding Mercy and Pratt. John was the first to speak, and she blinked up at him, still dazzled by the sudden brightness.

“We’ll stay here for a few days,” he said evenly, looking at her on the floor.

“I don’t have any spare clothes-”

“It’s been organized.”

Jacob spoke then. “Up,” he commanded and Pratt stood, holding his hand out to help her up too. “Dinner. Come.”

Pratt stepped towards him and they walked out into the dimly lit hall. Mercy looked at John and _knew_ he’d heard her conversation with Pratt, but he didn't say anything. He cocked his head towards the door and she stepped through, following Jacob and Pratt. They walked downstairs to a dusty dining room and were served some sort of stew. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it seemed to consist mainly of meat and potatoes. They ate in silence and she found herself pushing the food around the plate rather than actually eating it. Once the plates were cleared, Jacob reclined in his chair, putting his arm casually behind Pratt’s shoulders, hand hanging off the back of his chair, and looked at her.

“So,” he said. “I heard all about your adventure with the Resistance, and how you saved three of our own.”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t let them take those children,” she replied. “I have a lot of respect for Brother James, I wanted to help him.”

“Evidently, since you still call him “Brother”. Just call him James.” Jacob said brusquely. When she didn’t reply, he clapped Pratt on the shoulder. “You must be happy seeing your friend again, Peaches.”

Pratt nodded. “Very happy, I'm glad she's safe and well. Thank you for taking care of her,” he said, looking at John.

John nodded. “You're welcome.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Jacob spoke again. “Come on pup, time for bed. Say goodnight.”

Pratt looked at her, his face expressionless. “Goodnight.” he said simply.

She looked at him sadly. “Goodnight.”

They all left the room together, Jacob directing them to a room on the second floor, before leaving with Pratt to go to the third floor. The room was sparsely furnished with a double bed, two bedside tables, and a small wardrobe. It had no windows as it was positioned in the middle of the second floor, and the harsh yellow paint on the walls was cracked and peeling. Only one table had a lamp. John switched the lamp on and shrugged off his coat before hanging it up. She sat on the bed and watched him undress down to his boxers before he approached her and started to tug off her t-shirt. He still hadn’t spoken to her and she didn’t know what to say to him, still stuck on Pratt’s story and his new persona, nothing like the bubbly man she’d met over a year ago. Her shirt and shoes were off and John leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers and reaching for the fly of her jeans.

He pulled away and sighed in frustration when she didn’t respond. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy to see your friend.”

She pulled herself into the present and looked at him. “He’s not Pratt anymore,” she said quietly. “Jacob has broken him, reduced him to… to a pet. He used to be bubbly and vibrant, loved dancing and making jokes. Now he’s hollow, like a shell of himself. And it’s my fault.”

He looked at her, one brow raised. “How is it your fault?”

“If I hadn’t have cuffed Joseph, then his followers wouldn’t have retaliated, none of this wouldn’t have happened-”

“You’d be back in Seattle, in a dank boxy apartment with a perverted landlord and a job you didn’t like.” he said flatly, pushing her to lie back on the bed so he could tug off her pants.

She sat up again, stopping him in his tracks. “I guess so, but he’d also still be himself. Happy.” He made a small sound of annoyance, tugging at her jeans again. She gave in and wriggled out of them, leaving her in her underwear. He used his body to press her back into the bed, forcing her legs apart with his knee and kissing her again. She pulled away. “Is this really the place-”

“It’ll take your mind off things, I promise.” He flashed one of his signature charming smiles.

She paused for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her gently, tenderly. Given the speed at which he undressed himself and then her, she expected him to be more forceful and was surprised that he wasn't. One of his hands moved up to stroke her cheek then trailed down the side of her neck. His mouth followed his fingers, leaving her skin hot, before his tongue swept up her neck from collarbone to jaw and he took her earlobe between his teeth as his hand slid under her, struggling to undo her bra with her back pressed against the bed. She raised herself on her elbows, forcing him back and twisted her arms behind her to unhook her bra, pulling the straps from her shoulders and slipping her arms out of them. He threw the garment to the floor and leaned down to her again.

He used his mouth to explore her in a way he hadn't before, placing kisses above her breasts, below them, brushing his lips lightly back and forth over her nipples until they were hard under his touch. There was something different about the way he touched her. By this point, he'd have them both naked and halfway to orgasm, but now he was slow, each movement deliberate, tantalizing, exploring every inch of skin he could get his hands or mouth on. This wasn't just sex, this was _worship_. He slowly worked his way down, fingers swirling over her stomach, her hips, his fingers tracing over what he could reach of the word _YES_ on her side. Every touch sent electricity pulsing through her and she wanted so badly to kiss him, to have him inside her, but when she tried to pull him up he wouldn't move, instead sliding his fingers under the waistband of her panties and inching them off her hips before removing them completely.

One finger reached out to touch her, gently trailing down, pressing hard enough for her to feel his touch but not enough to part her folds and push into her. Mercy inhaled deeply, holding her breath, anticipating his next move. John finally pressed his lips against her, beard scratching her gently, but his touch was so subtle she moved her hips to meet him, to get _more_. He pressed her hips back down, holding her in place firmly, the tip of his tongue gently pressing against her and following the same path his finger had before. It was almost not enough and too much at the same time, and she released the lungful of air she'd been holding. To her surprise, it came out as a whine, her frustration showing. She was so used to him being rough, almost manhandling her, that this new gentleness was unbearable. She opened her mouth to beg him to give her something more when he plunged his tongue into her, dancing around where she wanted him the most. He seemed to drag his tongue up to her clit at an excruciatingly slow pace, circling it a few times before wrapping his lips around it and sucking a little harder than she expected. His fingers found her again and dipped in easily, curling up as he pulled them out and slid back in effortlessly.

She was tipped over the edge instantly, the orgasm catching her by surprise and she slapped her hand over her mouth to stop from yelling out, her hips bucking up against his mouth. Her other hand tangled in his hair, trying to hold him still as he continued to lick her. Reduced to a convulsing, oversensitive mess beneath him, she tried to pull his head away. He pulled back long enough to get out of his boxers before kissing his way from her navel to her mouth.

“Feel better?” he asked quietly.

She made a soft nose of agreement, pressing her hips up against his and kissing him again. John rolled off her onto his back, pulling her to straddle him. She did so, sinking down over him without hesitation, pressing her chest against his. His hands stroked up and down her back and he let her set the pace. Mercy rocked her hips against him quickly, suddenly desperate to be closer. Leaning on one arm, she brought her free hand to rest on his cheek, pressing her forehead to his. His arms around her tightened and he started thrusting up sharply to meet her. Her mouth found his again and her tongue darted out to stoke his bottom lip. His upper body lurched up towards her as he came without warning, groaning against her mouth as he tried to kiss her back, eventually falling back with his arms still wrapped around her waist. She could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, his breath warm on her cheek as she moved her hands to his shoulders, stroking her thumbs over them slowly.

“What were you thinking about when we arrived?” John asked eventually.

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“Try again.”

She inhaled deeply, trying to figure out how to say it without sounding like an asshole. “Seeing those cages… it reminded me of the time you caught me and held me in the bunker, with Hudson. I had a flashback to you choking me, telling me you were going to tear me open and pour my worst fears into me… it just spooked me, that’s all.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, didn’t even move, just stayed where he was, his arms clamped around her waist, holding her to his chest. Finally, he spoke again. “I heard your conversion with Pratt.”

“Oh. I thought so.” She tried to pull away from him to look at him properly but he held her in place, so she put her head on his shoulder again.

“I couldn't get bored of you,” he muttered. “I know what my flaws are. I knew what you thought of me before you agreed with him-”

“John-”

“ _Let me finish._ I know I do a lot of fucked up things. But I don't want you to think I'd just throw you away. I know it doesn't show. It's difficult - it often feels like there are two people inside this body, battling to overpower one another. I believe you phrased it as _Jekyll and Hyde._ You don't expect me to do or be anything in particular. I can just be, I can relax.” She stayed still and silent as he spoke, gripping his shoulders a little tighter. He sighed in frustration.

“You don't have to say anything, really. I understand, and I'll stay for as long as you need me. When you don't need me anymore then maybe I can help elsewhere...” Mercy said quietly, staring at the bedspread.

John sat up then, pushing her to sit on his lap and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Will you shut up, I do need to explain. I need you to know... for fuck's sake.” His hand moved to the back of her neck and he pulled her forwards so their foreheads and noses touched. “I feel the same way you do, okay? And if you tell anyone I'll fucking kill you.”

Stunned, she blinked a few times before she closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. She didn’t doubt him for a second.


	20. John IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More from John, but less introspective this time.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story, please leave a comment or a kudos! <3

_“Do you love him?”_

_“Yes. I know I probably shouldn’t. I know what kind of person he is. He can be like Jekyll and Hyde, one minute he’s John the Baptist, the next he’s passionate and giving. But… I don’t know. I do. I feel a connection with him that I haven’t found in anyone else. He probably doesn’t feel the same way, and that’s fine. I can cope with that.”_

She was wrong, he did feel the same way, he just couldn’t fucking tell her because he was a flaming trashcan of a human being. Manipulating the Sheriff had been easy. He was weak and scared, and Joseph’s vision had pushed him to the edge. _”I don’t want to fight anymore,”_ he’d sobbed as John inked _GREED_ into his skin, underlining it with a slice of the knife for good measure. _”Please, I’ll take my people and leave.”_

Torturing that rapist bastard was easy, too. John took great pleasure in forcing the pathetic excuse for a man’s apology from him, slicing into his flesh before making the bleeding, snivelling mess on the floor watch as he kissed her, proving that she was _his_ , only his. He wanted to tear that scumbag limb from limb, but not in front of her. He got her an apology, and that was all she needed to see. But he needed to take his revenge. He’d started with instigating a fistfight, but his victim was so terrified he ended up pleading for his life after throwing only a couple of half-hearted punches. John had intended only to castrate him and be done with it, but once he started he couldn’t stop, and by the time he’d finished, he couldn’t even recognize the man who had been dragged into the hangar just a couple of hours before.

Interrogating was easy. Inflicting pain was easy. Killing was easy. Trying to tell her how he felt about her, how she’d changed him, how he could never let her go - that was _not_ easy. Here she was, naked and vulnerable before him, telling him she was there if he needed and would go when he told her to, and he couldn’t just say, _Stay. I need you to stay. I love you and I need you to stay._ John Seed the lawyer, the man who used words to manipulate people for a living, suddenly found himself without the ability to use any of his words at all.

 _Jesus Christ you’re a fucking idiot,_ he thought to himself, self-loathing rising up like bile in the back of his throat. _It’s not fucking hard to say “I love you”, but I can’t do it so I’ll kind of say it, then I'll threaten your life if you tell anyone about it. Great job, really smooth, well done._

But Mercy didn't question him, just kissed him gently before she slid off his lap to pull back the blanket and crawl into bed. She tapped him on the shoulder. “In you get.”

He looked down at her for a moment and then slid in next to her, lying on his back and staring angrily at the ceiling as though it was the ceiling’s fault he couldn’t speak. She sidled up next to him, moving his arm out to the side and throwing her own over his chest, resting her chin on the back of her hand. He knew she was looking at him but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her, not yet, not until he’d calmed down.

“John,” she said softly. He didn’t reply. “Thank you.”

She must have realized he wasn’t going to say anything because she settled herself down, arm across his ribs, head on his pec, and fell asleep. As he lay there fuming silently, John thought back on the conversation she had with her friend which he and Jacob listened in from an office down the hall. He sat in silence as her friend described his time with Jacob, and was unsurprised to hear Jacob had used sex to control him. Of course, Mercy being who she is, she had to try and jump to his rescue and tried to convince him to leave - but Jacob had broken that poor man and he refused to go. Then she described her time in Hope County, from the pursuit after the helicopter crash, to him abducting her in his home, to his treatment of her in the bunker. He gained a sliver in insight into how she felt as they grew closer after he let her out, and how she felt about the way her views had changed, how he had changed her.

_“Huh, really get her wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” Jacob had asked, nudging John with his elbow as they were listening in on the conversation Mercy was having with Pratt._

_“Something like that,” John mumbled, staring at a spot of peeling paint on the opposite wall. “I could say the same for you.”_

_“You were always good like that, though,” Jacob continued, ignoring John’s comment. “Always get whatever you want.”_

_“Isn’t that why I was recruited in the first place?” John asked, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice._

_Jacob laughed quietly. “Something like that. Just make sure she doesn’t make you weak. I’m not going to lose my little brother because of some harlot.”_

_John bristled. “My path is clear, brother,” he said through gritted teeth._

_Jacob shrugged. “Stay for a few days. I need you to go over some paperwork and finances for me.”_

_Of course. More work. “Fine. I’ll need to organise some supplies, we brought nothing with us.”_

Mercy and Pratt’s conversation had ended by the time he’d made the appropriate calls, so he followed Jacob back to his office to collect her and her friend for dinner. What he saw when Jacob unlocked the office shook him to his core. She was sitting on the floor with her friend, exactly where they’d left them, she holding his hand with her head on his shoulder. She looked as broken as Jacob’s pet, and he hadn’t expected to find her like that. He fought to keep his expression neutral when she blinked up at him, and ushered her down the hallway behind his brother to eat.

In his guilt, he wanted to try and cheer her up, make her feel better, make her feel _good_ , but she was so caught up in her own head she couldn’t even register what he was doing. Mercy gave in to him eventually, like she always did, and he suspected she always would, and he needed to show her that he wouldn’t get bored of her, could never, not when she _felt_ the way she did and responded to his touch like _that_ and those _sounds_ she makes…

 _Get it together, Seed._ he thought as he went to sleep.

He found himself in the backseat of a pickup the following morning on the way to visit the camp Jacob had set up to train his Chosen soldiers. Pratt was driving and Mercy was in the front seat with him, both of them singing along to the radio, however he was a little more reserved than she was. Pratt certainly looked more relaxed than he did the previous day, and she looked like she was having the time of her life, smiling and laughing as she sung along with him. John had never seen her like this, shining eyes and wide grin - she was mesmerising. Jacob nudged John with his elbow.

“Weak.” he said in a low voice, looking at John pointedly.

John sighed and looked out the window, wishing he were back at his home. He and Jacob never really got on - he always suspected Jacob resented him for the opportunities he got in Atlanta, particularly in terms of his education. He wouldn’t wish his experience with his foster parents on anyone though, not even his older brother. They’d all been through a lot, he and his brothers, each marred by their own experiences in pain and loss, and that’s what ultimately united them in the end, but Jacob would always view him as the little brother who was never quite good enough.

The car slowed down and came to a brief stop at the North Park Entrance where they were checked before being flagged through. The terrain was rough and rugged here, and John felt uneasy not being able to see what was around the corner. He glanced back at her, bobbing her head to the music and singing along to Build a Castle. She turned around briefly and gave him a quick wink, but he couldn’t respond, knowing Jacob was judging his every move. The Stone Ridge Chalet finally came into view and the car came to a stop. They all got out and Jacob stood in front of Mercy and Pratt, glowering at them.

“You will follow me and speak to no one,” he said gruffly, turning on his heel and walking through the gate. He turned to the right and stopped at a tent with a table and a few chairs. “Sit here and stay until we come for you,” he said to them, before indicating John should follow him.

John nodded at her and followed Jacob into the chalet, past a dozen training soldiers. They walked upstairs to an office with a safe, which Jacob opened and pulled out a stack of papers and folders. He put them on the desk and handed John a pen. He sighed - this was going to take a while. Jacob held interviews with his men outside the office while John went through page after page of invoices and purchase orders for massive speaker systems for his brother’s “Wolf Beacons”, new stock for the armory, new vehicles. Jacob wanted a lot, and it was all expensive. Why the paperwork was here instead of the hospital was beyond John, but he probably had his strange reasons.

About half an hour into his task, he heard gunfire outside and didn’t think of anything of it - they were in a training ground, after all. Shortly after there was shouting, a lot of shouting, and suddenly the chalet was alive with movement as Jacob’s men were gearing up for a fight. John stood just as Jacob opened the door, looking livid. “Whitetails.” he growled.

_Mercy._

John pushed past Jacob and bounded down the stairs, Jacob yelling after him, something about getting himself killed, but he didn’t care, he needed to make sure she was safe. He raced out of the front door and turned to the tent - she was gone. So was Pratt. There were people everywhere - dozens of Whitetail soldiers were pushing in from the forest, but he didn’t care, he needed to find her. He looked around wildly and called for her. “Deputy? Deputy!” Nothing. “Mer-” 

Jacob knocked him on the side of the head, dragging him back into the chalet. “Don’t shout her name, you moron! If she’s with Peaches she’ll be fine.” He threw John to the ground. “Stay here. You - don’t let my brother out of your sight. If he tries to leave, you have my permission to shoot him.” 

John watched him go back upstairs and groaned in frustration. She was out there with no weapon, no radio - what was she going to do? How would he find her? What would Joseph do to him if she got killed? Cursing his brother, he paced the floor, listening to the conflict outside. Eventually, he sat down and waited, tapping his foot impatiently. The chalet was more than protected, and the firefight only seemed to last for five minutes before the Whitetails retreated. Jacob returned and walked right past him out of the front doors. John stood quickly and followed. 

“Search for Peaches and the girl,” he said to two soldiers before turning to his brother. “Better survey the damage, come on.” They walked around the site. Jacob lost three men, and they counted nine dead Whitetails. There was no sign of Mercy or Pratt, and Jacob’s men returned with no news on either of them. Jacob groaned. “Alright, fine. Better send out a hunting party. No more than five miles out, got it?” 

“Five miles?! They could be _anywhere -_ ” John started, but Jacob cut him off, grabbing the collar of his coat. 

“The lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many. _We_ are the few. _They_ are the many. Let’s go.” 

They drove back to the hospital in silence, and John didn’t see his brother for another two days. John had decided to stay at the hospital just in case Mercy found her way back and he’d notified Brother James, who was still at the Ranch with his family. Brother James offered to come up and help search for her, but John declined as he could trust no one else to care for his region in his absence. _This is why we were separated,_ he thought bitterly as he got dressed, three days after the attack. _We can just look after our own shit and not get in anyone else’s way._

He left the room and went downstairs, running into Jacob on the staircase. “I was coming to get you,” Jacob said. “They’ve been found. Let’s go.” 

Once more John found himself in the back seat of a truck, trying not to show his frustration. It seemed to take a hell of a long time to get to wherever they were going, and Jacob wouldn’t give him much information, other than, “Peaches and the harlot have been found with another piece of Whitetail trash. They’ve killed some of ours.” John couldn’t imagine why she would kill a Project member, she was on their side now… right? Unless she did it to save herself and her friend. Surely that was it. Self-defence. 

The car finally pulled up outside a small compound atop a mountain. He opened the car door and walked around to stand next to Jacob, following him past the fence towards the buildings. There was a massive fire burning in the middle of the path and next to it were Mercy, Pratt and another woman John didn’t recognise. They were all kneeling, hands bound behind their backs and each with two men on either side of them. She looked up at him and he saw a hint of a smile on her lips as she leaned towards him. One of the guards grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back roughly. Knowing he couldn’t do or say anything in the presence of his brother, he just looked at her. Jacob was inspecting a body to the right of the fire. He shook his head a few times before turning to John. 

“He was one of my best men,” he said. “Do you know how valuable he was to our cause?” He turned to Mercy. “I was right about you. You were never one of us. Manipulating my brother to try and take us down from the inside, huh?” 

She shook her head. “You’re wrong. But I couldn’t let him get away with what he’s doing - he’s killing innocent people, Jacob! Killing _children_! Aren’t you supposed to be _saving_ people? They’re just killing people on sight!"

 _Killing civilians?_ he thought. _We’re supposed to be saving them, not killing them._

She turned and looked at him then. “John, please. You know I couldn’t go back to the Resistance, not after everything that’s happened. But he was torturing and murdering innocent people, I had to help stop him.” 

“Poor little liar,” Jacob laughed at her. “Our man here was following orders and leading the purge, culling the weak. It’s what we do. The Collapse is upon us, we don’t have time to save everyone. The lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many. We find the exceptional ones and bring them into our flock - the rest can be discarded, they are not worthy. That brings me to what to do with you three.” 

The other woman started to struggle against her bonds. “I know what I’d like to do,” she spat, her voice low and rough. “Come here so I can punch you in the dick, you creepy ginger fuck.” 

Jacob just looked at her bemusedly and slapped her across the face. 

John frowned at his brother. “What, exactly, have you been doing up here?” 

Jacob narrowed his eyes at John. “My job,” he replied simply. “I was tasked to create an army. Those that won’t fight are useless to us, and must be culled.” 

“Jacob,” John said warningly. “Those people could have been saved. They could have been sent to Faith, or even to me. Does Joseph know-” 

“What Joseph doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Jacob said, clearly annoyed. ‘I’m doing the job I’ve been tasked with, and you should be doing yours. You can’t tell me you’ve been following your orders perfectly either - how many on average don’t make it out of the Cleansings alive?” 

John fought to control his anger. “I _am_ doing my job. I convince people to join our cause and I give them purpose. You, however, are not. Mercy’s right, we’re supposed to be saving people, not committing genocide. If Joseph finds out-” 

Jacob approached him and grabbed the front of his shirt. “Joseph’s not gonna find out,” he said dangerously before shoving John backwards. “Pack ‘em up and take ‘em home.” 

John watched as Mercy was loaded into a pickup with Pratt and the other woman, Jess. She glanced back at him briefly but said nothing. He went to follow, but Jacob stopped him. “With me, come on.” 

Back at the hospital, Mercy and the other woman were put in cages next to each other outside the building, while Jacob went to drag Pratt off. John turned to Jacob as he grabbed Pratt by the hair. “Is this really necessary?” he asked, gesturing to the cages. 

Jacob paused. “Peaches and I are gonna have a little talk, and then I’ll be back to interview your whore and her new friend.” he said, walking off and dragging the younger man with him. 

John watched them walk off before turning back to the cage and approaching it. She immediately walked towards him and gripped the bars of the cage with one hand, the other reaching through and laying flat on his chest. “I’m going to get you out of here,” he said, reaching for his radio. He needed to contact Joseph. 


	21. Chapter 21

“You will follow me and speak to no one,” Jacob said, turning on his heel and walking through the gate. Mercy and Pratt followed him inside the compound to a tent with a table and a few chairs. “Sit here and stay until we come for you.”

She exchanged a brief look with John before the two Seed brothers went inside the main building. Sighing, she sat in one of the chairs and glanced around her new surroundings. There were many soldiers here, all wearing the same uniform - red balaclava and long black coat. Some were going through an obstacle course, others were going through weapons drills that she herself had done before. It was clearly some sort of training facility, and a well-protected one at that, judging by the number of lookout towers and snipers she could see.

Pratt sat next to her and folded his arms across his chest. “Welcome to the Stone Ridge Chalet, training ground of the Chosen,” he said in a monotone. “This is where Jacob’s elite come to train.”

“I guess you need soldiers at the end of the world too, huh?” she asked somewhat sarcastically. She hadn’t been told where they were going but had enjoyed the car trip anyway, singing along to the radio with Pratt like they used to do. Now she was here she was expected to sit and wait obediently while John and Jacob were inside, which annoyed her - had she not proven her trustworthiness and loyalty?

“Jacob doesn’t trust you,” Pratt said as if he could read her mind. “Doesn’t want you in the main building in case you report back to the Resistance.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “What will it take, Staci?” she asked. He simply shrugged. They sat in silence for a while, watching the soldiers train, until she got bored and stood up. “Screw this, let’s go for a walk. I need to find a bathroom.” she said, tapping him on the shoulder.

“We shouldn’t-”

She grabbed his hand. “Come on, they’ll probably be in there for ages. They won’t know.”

He closed his eyes briefly and then stood. “You’re going to get us both punished.” he moaned, following begrudgingly. She poked her tongue out at him and started to walk away from the main building along the fence line. “Must be nice to be granted so much freedom from your captor,” he mumbled.

She paused. “I’m with him willingly,” she said quietly.

He stopped and grabbed her wrist. “Are you? Or is it that he took away all your freedom and you’ve just become dependant on him? Ever heard of Stockh-”

“Shut up.” she snapped. She didn’t want to acknowledge that he might be right. She _had_ become dependant on him. Being back with Pratt, despite how much they’d both changed, gave her a sliver of her old life back, and she was reluctant to let that go. She didn’t want to think that her feelings towards John could be an illusion, and that the conversation they’d had the night before could just be another way of controlling her. He _seemed_ genuine.

They walked in silence to a small creek before turning left towards a small stone building. They made their way up the hill behind it and she spotted an outhouse. “I’m going in here for a minute,” she said, walking in and closing the door. It was filthy and dark. Quickly, she unzipped her jeans and squatted over the toilet, trying not to touch it.

Almost immediately he was knocking on the door. “Mercy, hurry up! I think the Whitetails are here!”

Hurriedly, she fixed up her clothes and opened the door. Staci was in front of her, staring to the left where three men were quietly approaching, guns raised and pointing at the chalet. She glanced to the right to see another five men, also moving towards the compound. She grabbed Pratt’s arm and tried to pull him back towards the stone shack, but then the men to the left fired towards the training ground. Things seemed to happen too quickly - one minute they were headed towards the compound, the next Pratt had turned her around, charging past the outhouse and into the trees. The ground became quite steep and Mercy slipped, grazing her arm on a rock as she slid past it. Pratt was over her in an instant, trying to pull her up, his fingers digging into her stinging skin. As he helped her up, a woman approached them with a bow and arrow pointed at them.

“Not another step. Who are you?” the woman asked sharply. She had long dark hair and several angry-looking scars across her face.

Pratt was the one who spoke. “Oh thank God! I’m Staci, and this is my wife, Mercy,” he said. “Please, we need your help - we were kidnapped by a group of men, we don’t know where we are!”

Mercy looked at him incredulously. What was he doing? She heard gunfire from behind them and turned in the direction of the chalet. What about John-

Pratt put his arm around her shoulders. “We’re going to be alright.” he said, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

The woman looked at them suspiciously and walked to stand next to them, bow still raised. She flicked her head to the left. “Move.”

She pushed them away from the compound through the trees, avoiding the lookout tower to the northeast. They picked their way down a steep, rocky path and found themselves back on the road they’d used to get to the chalet. There were five waiting vehicles, and the woman forced them into one, pulling a pistol from her jeans and pointing it at them as she got into the front seat. The car took off with another one following behind. Pratt held Mercy's hand tightly and she tried not to think of John and what he’d do when he realised she was gone _again_. What would Jacob do when he found out Pratt was gone too? He’d probably think she orchestrated the attack to try and get him out.

_I’m fucked._

The vehicle eventually began a tedious, winding path up a mountain and came to a stop in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. The woman in the front seat got out of the car with the driver, and they both stood pointing guns at their captives.

“Get out,” the woman ordered, and they scrambled out of the car. “Walk.”

They were made to walk down another rocky path and came to a stop in front of the entrance to a bunker. The woman indicated they should enter, so they carefully stepped into the dark stairwell and down into the gloom. The first room was well stocked with food, whoever was down here was clearly prepared. They walked past a wall of lockers and came face to face with a man in camo gear. He had black hair and a bushy beard to match, and appeared startled by their presence.

“Jess? Who are these people?” he asked.

The woman responded. “They were runnin’ from the compound when we attacked. Say they were taken by the cult.”

The man looked at them consideringly. “Better take ‘em though then.”

They were pushed to another room to the left and her first thought was to turn around and run. The room was small, sparsely furnished and had a single light. It was what was under the light that made her want to flee. A man in a Chosen uniform was tied to a metal chair standing in a children’s swimming pool, which was full of water. Jumper cables connected the chair to a voltage amplifier and a throwing knife was protruding from the man's chest. Mercy swallowed hard and tried to back out of the room.

“Easy, princess,” Jess said. “He can’t hurt you, he’s dead.”

“I see that.” she said weakly.

She reached for Pratt, who took her hand and led to lean on the back wall. He put his arm around her shoulders again and kissed the top of her head. “We’re safe now.” he murmured. _I can’t tell if he’s acting or being serious._ she thought, leaning into him. Following his lead seemed the safest option.

“So,” the man said. “Tell us about yourselves.”

Pratt took over straight away. “I’m Staci, and this is my wife Mercy,” he repeated. “Newlyweds… just a year. We were driving through Hope County on a road trip for our honeymoon when all the roads closed, we couldn’t get any mobile reception… we’ve kind of been winging it. We came up to the Whitetail Mountains to see the Ringing Rocks and we were captured by a group of men. We were both in the army, they said they could use our skills. Put us through tests… said we were “chosen”... brought us to that compound. When your men attacked, we thought that was the perfect opportunity to run, and we ran into your associate here.” He gestured to Jess.

The man considered them for a moment. “Pretty poor timing to have a honeymoon,” he said finally. “How much do you know about what’s been going on in Hope County?”

Pratt shook his head. “Just what we picked up from people. We started off in Fall’s End, met a few people there, but then the cult or whatever… Peggies? Is that right? They came in, swept the town for a… reaping, or something. We were able to escape, and we picked our way north, scavenging whatever we could. We even traded our wedding rings for food.”

“You guys been livin’ rough for a year?” Jess asked as she looked Mercy over. “You don’t look like you’ve been livin’ rough. He does.”

Before she could even think of an excuse, Pratt jumped in again. “I’ve been trying to take care of my wife. I don’t care what happens to me, as long as she’s safe.” He pulled her in closer. She bit her lip hard and put her head on his shoulder.

“Good man,” the black-haired man said. “I’m Eli, by the way. Eli Palmer, leader of the Whitetail Militia. And this bunker is the Wolf’s Den. We’re trying to defend the region against Jacob Seed. You know who he is?” They looked at each other and then back to him.

“Heard the name,” Pratt said. “Don’t think we ever got to meet him, though.”

Eli launched into the story of the Seed family from his perspective, how they came in, and the horrors Jacob inflicted on the people in the area. He spoke of abductions, executions in the street, people being fed to wolves, often alive. He spoke of the pain and suffering inflicted on those around him, how he lost people he was close to, how it affected him. When he finished, he looked at them thoughtfully. “If you wouldn’t mind, we could always use more help,” he said.

Pratt nodded immediately. “Whatever we can do,” he said. Mercy nodded too.

“Excellent! Jess, show ‘em around would you?” Eli said before leaving the room.

Jess led them back out, past a wall of televisions. One of them was labelled _Stone Ridge Chalet_. Mercy stopped dead and pointed at it, pulling on Pratt’s arm.

“Oh hey, you guys have surveillance on the cult?” he asked casually, peering at the screen.

“Sure do,” Eli said. “Had to pull out of there though, we didn’t expect there to be so many men there ready to defend it. But we’ve got good intel, we’ll try again.”

A woman with short blonde hair walked into the room, striding towards Eli. “Eli, there’s a rumour going around saying John Seed’s here. One of the guys thought they saw him at the chalet,” she said, stopping short when she saw Mercy and Pratt. “Who are they?”

“Staci and Mercy, we rescued them from the Stone Ridge Chalet,” Eli said. “John Seed’s here? Huh. Follow that up, see if it’s true. I know a few people who wouldn’t mind giving back what he dishes out.”

Mercy squeezed Pratt’s hand hard, digging her nails into his skin. He squeezed back harder, forcing her to ease up. “Hey guys, we’ve had a long day, is there somewhere we can sleep?” he asked.

“This way.” Jess said. They followed her through the bunker to another storage room with mattresses on the floor. 

“There’s a double mattress there.” she said, pointing to it. “You can have that. Back through here is the bathroom if you wanna get cleaned up.” They followed her to the small bathroom.

“That’s a great idea, thank you,” Pratt said. He went with her to get some clean underwear and towels for both of them, leaving Mercy standing in the bathroom. He returned and closed the door, setting the items down on the closed toilet seat.

“Come on,” he said. “Have a shower, it’ll make you feel better. I’ll have one after you.” He turned around to face the door.

“Staci-” she started, but he turned to her again and walked towards her, pressing his lips to her ear. “We don’t know if this place is bugged. Have a shower, I’ll talk to you once you’re in there.” She nodded and started to undress, pulling off her shirt first with her back to him. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said, touching the marks on her waist. She recoiled from him, embarrassed. “Why?”

“After I came back from the jail,” she whispered. “He was upset I’d left. I didn’t feel it, I was out cold.”

Pratt pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you want to stay.” he said bluntly, turning around again.

She sighed and removed the rest of her clothes, stepping into the lukewarm spray. Pratt stuck his head through the shower curtain, looking at the ceiling. “Yes, I want to stay,” she hissed. “But not here!”

“Jacob will find us. Trust me.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I don’t want him tearing dozens of innocent people apart to get to us either!” she whispered angrily.

“Why did you join them?” he asked quietly. “What makes you want to go back there so badly? When I first met you, you were a tough-as-nails cop and nothing phased you. Now look at you - he’s made you weak.”

“You sound like Jacob.” she said before she could stop herself. He looked at her, eyes narrowed, but said nothing. “Sorry. I don’t know, Staci. Yeah, it’s messed up, but I’ve spent my entire life more or less on my own - my parents were more interested in their church groups than their own child, and I was never good at building relationships with people. I know he’s messed up, he’s messed _me_ up, but I’ve genuinely made a difference here, and the community they’ve built, it’s changed me. You’re right - he took away my freedom and made me dependant on him. Maybe I should have fought harder to stop that. From what you’ve told me of Jacob, I don’t expect _you_ to go back, but _I_ will.”

He laughed softly. “Alright, fine. Just play along with my story. If they want us to help, we’ll help - see if we can escape while we’re out on one of their missions. I don’t want to be here any more than you do, trust me.”

She groaned. “Aren't you glad to be away from Jacob?” 

He was silent for a long time. “No.” He said finally.

“Why?”

“For the same reason you want to go back to John, sort of.”

She nodded and looked at the floor. Who was she to question him? “Why’d you pull us away anyway?”

“I didn’t want to be shot and were heading straight for a firefight. Figured if it looked like we were running away from them, then we’d have a better chance of survival. You’re welcome.”

He disappeared and left her to her shower. Mercy placed her hands on the wall and hung her head, letting the water wash over her. She couldn’t help but think of John again, and mentally kicked herself. _Stay strong, Deputy._ she thought. Pratt was right, she used to be tough, and she had to be tough again now. When she stepped out of the shower, Pratt had already disrobed and stood with his back to her. It was covered in scars and marks, some fairly new looking. Some even looked like bite marks.

“All yours,” she said, securing the towel around her.

He turned around, clearly not caring if she saw him naked and stepped into the shower. She got dressed and waited for him. They went to the mattress together, hanging their towels from a shelf next to them to dry and lay down. He turned away from her and she pulled the thin blanket over them, wrapping her arm around his waist just as John did for her. Tomorrow they’d find a way out of there. They had to.


	22. Chapter 22

They spent the following morning meeting the other inhabitants in the Wolf’s Den, including Tammy, the woman that had reported the rumor about John; and Wheaty, a young man who really just wanted to be a DJ. As they were talking to Wheaty about his pirate radio station, Jess approached them and asked them if she could speak to them privately. They followed her into a small bedroom with a floral bedspread and sat on the bed while Jess sat on the chair opposite with her hands on her knees.

“You said you were in the army, right?” They both nodded. “I’d like your help taking down one of the Peggies’ elite members. The Whitetails rescued me from the Baron Lumber Mill. I was captured by Peggies while I was on the trail of one of one of Jacob’s zealots. Goes by the name “The Cook”.” Mercy and Pratt exchanged a quick glance. “Yeah, don’t sound so scary, but he’s one twisted fuck. Almost tracked him down, but a Peggie patrol got the drop on me. I need your help. We can’t let this trail go cold. This guy’s butchered a lot of innocent folk around here. Can’t let him get away with it any longer.”

Jess cleared her throat before continuing. “Let me give you some backstory. Goddamn cult’s grabbin’ everyone. They’ll take you from your home, bar, even church… don’t matter where you are. Then they slot ya into one of two categories. Weak or strong. See, Jacob’s buildin’ an army, and anyone who can’t - or won’t - fight for him winds up dead. “Culling the herd” he calls it… wholesale slaughter of innocent people. Nobody believed it was happening, because nobody wanted to believe…” She looked unhappily at the floor for a moment. Mercy frowned slightly - this didn’t sound right. Taking people, yes, but usually after some coercion, not abducting them. Not categorizing them as “weak” or “strong”. What was Jess talking about?

“And then there’s the one we’re after… The Cook. He’s one of Jacob’s favorites. The one who leads his “purging”. The Cook’s bought into all of Jacob’s bullshit. But this motherfucker’s gonna get what he deserves. You wanna know why they call him The Cook? Couple years back, Jacob sent one of his guys out to round up this family - parents and kids. First thing he did was starve ‘em. Gave ‘em nothin’, not even a drop of water. After three days they got so thirsty they had to drink their own piss. But the kids didn’t want to do it, so the parents forced it down their throats… kids puked it right back up. The Cook didn’t like that, so he went and strung the parents up on the posts under the hot sun.”

“That’s awful,” Pratt said quietly.

Jess nodded. “Gets worse. So The Cook, he had the parents on posts and decided to give the kids a little water. And then he asked if they were hungry. Kids were _starvin’_ so they said yes. Started beggin’ for food. Cook asked if they want pork. Kids said yes. So he went out to the parents and took their shoes off and started to play “This little piggy went to market”... the blood poured like a damn faucet. Cook had a big ol’ grin on his face as he offered each little piece to the kids. Pretty soon there were no more piggies left, so he laughed and set the parents on fire… and the air filled up with that sickly sweet smell of roasting flesh. I’ll never forget that smell… When they finally stopped screamin’, I looked around and he was just… gone. Vanished like some sort of demon in the night. Anyways… that’s why they call him The Cook.”

“My God, Jess, I’m so sorry,” Mercy said, reaching out instinctively to put her hand on Jess’s. “What do you need us to do?”

Jess recoiled from her touch. “You two are experienced. I want you to help me take him down. We’ll go through some trainin’ and prep today, and tomorrow we’ll go huntin’.”

They watched Jess stand and walk off. Mercy made sure Jess was gone before turning to Pratt. “Surely the Project wouldn’t employ people to just go around committing mass murder and abductions like that,” she whispered. “From all I’ve seen from John, they want to _save_ as many people as possible. I know he’s marked people, but I’ve never seen or heard of him doing anything like that.” _Except to Mick,_ she thought. “I mean, I’ve seen him kill people, but there’s been a reason. I haven’t seen him kill anyone for fun or because he thought they were disposable. Everyone has a purpose.”

Pratt shrugged. “That’s _John_ though. Jacob is different. Nothing about that story surprised me, it’s so typically him. Do you want to help her? Could be our chance to get back to the hospital.”

She nodded immediately. “He’s attacking children, Staci. He turned her and her sibling into _cannibals_. He has to be stopped.”

“Then we’ll help.” Pratt said simply, standing and exiting the room. She followed him out and spotted him walking towards Jess, Eli and Tammy.

“Did you hear any more on John Seed?” Mercy asked in what she hoped was a casual voice, looking at Tammy as she took Pratt’s hand. That’s what a wife would do, right?

The older woman shook her head. “No, couldn’t find any more of it. I don’t know why he’d be up here anyway - they don’t tend to leave their own regions so far as we’re aware.”

 _Thank God._ Mercy nodded and shrugged, turning to Jess. “Alright, what do we have to work with?”

***

The following morning, Jess drove them to the Baron Lumber Mill, claiming The Cook was last spotted near there. She felt nervous during the car ride - what if they were stopped at a roadblock? What if they were recognized? But nothing happened, they didn’t even see a Project vehicle, which Mercy thought was odd. Pratt seemed tense as they arrived at the Lumber Mill, his knuckles white as he gripped his shotgun tightly. Jess indicated for them to follow her, which they did. They walked through a gap in the fence to a small wooden bridge. There was a pile of charred bodies to the right and Mercy swallowed bile as it rose in the back of her throat.

“That’s his calling card,” Jess said, stalking past the charred mess of flesh and bones to push up the mountain. After a few minutes of walking in silence, they heard voices.

“Please let us go,” a woman said. “We’ll leave, we won’t cause any trouble!”

“Shut up, sinner.” a male voice replied.

“Shit, they’ve got prisoners,” Jess whispered, crouching and pushing towards the source of the voices. They had an advantage over the camp, looking down over it. Mercy scanned the area quickly - three hostages, five guards. Easy. She pressed her finger to her lips, pointed to herself and then pointed to the right to indicate where she was going to go. Staying low, she snuck to the right, hiding in the trees. From where she was positioned, she could easily get shots on three of them. Pulling out her silenced pistol, she took her first shot - the man went down like a rock. She took out the other two just as easily. The last two started to panic and were looking around for the source of the shots when they were both hit by Jess’s arrows. Mercy, Pratt and Jess pushed down to the campsite and freed the hostages; two women, and one man.

“There’s more of us! The Cook... he took them up the mountain!” one of the women said.

“Thank-” the male hostage started, but Jess had already started to move on, intent on finding her prey.

“Jess, they were trying to thank us.” Mercy said, running to catch up with her.

Jess shrugged. “No time for that,” she said simply.

Mercy and Pratt followed her in silence up the mountain. Pratt still looked petrified and hadn’t fired a single shot. Mercy reached out and put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder, but he didn’t respond. They continued their trek up the rocky mountain path, stopping when they heard voices again.

“The weak are impure and unworthy! Their souls are plagued by filth!” a male voice yelled, his voice echoing around them.

Jess stopped and turned to face them. “That’s him!” she hissed. “That’s The Cook!”

They pressed up further, once more finding themselves looking down on the campsite. There were a few converted shipping containers, a tent and a lot of cages with dead bodies in them. In the center was a man in a cage and another man circling it with a flamethrower. Every so often, he’d turn the flamethrower on, pointing it at the man in the cage, making him scream in pain. Anger rose in Mercy’s chest and inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. Was this really what the Project was doing? Was this what they stood for? Did John know, and was he pulling shit like this in Holland Valley? Her eyes darted around the campsite beneath her. There were at least a dozen other guards around the camp.

“Think you have a clear shot?” Jess asked.

Mercy nodded, pulling out the sniper rifle she’d brought with her. “Burn with the light of our father! Sacrifice the weak! Cleanse your soul with God’s righteous flame!” The Cook shouted gleefully. She lined him up in the scope. She just needed him to stop moving for a second…

He stood still to tap on the cage, taunting its inhabitant. _Bang._ He went down immediately, blood pooling from the gunshot wound in his temple. The guards around the compound sprang to life. She was preparing to take another shot when Pratt threw his shotgun down next to her.

“It’s time!” he whispered quickly and ran towards the men with his hands up. Mercy threw her gun down too and followed him. She considered trying to make it look like she was trying to stop him for Jess’s sake, but Jess would find out the truth soon enough. She raised her hands in defeat.

“Hey, it’s Peaches!” one of the guards called.

“Get the fuck off me!” Jess yelled from behind them as she was grabbed by two guards. Mercy watched Jess being pushed into her view as her hands were seized and pulled behind her.

The guard holding Pratt looked at Mercy and his jaw dropped. “And the Deputy! Call Jacob!” He approached her and gave her a hard stare. “John’s been looking for you.”

Jess looked at Mercy and sneered. “Why would John fucking Seed be looking for you?” she spat.

Mercy bit her lip. “Well, I’m… we’re… Pratt’s not my husband.” she finished lamely, as they were dragged to the center of the compound and forced to their knees. She gave Jess a brief explanation of who they were and how they came to be in the Whitetail Mountains.

“So you helped me because you want to get back to your twisted boyfriend?” she asked. “Send him a message telling him where to pick you up?”

“He’s not… I don’t… er… look,” she said, getting frustrated. “John doesn’t do shit like this, he doesn’t burn people alive and kill them on the street. I’m as angry about this as you are, and that’s why I helped you.”

Jess didn’t look at her, and neither did Pratt.

“Whose side are you on?” Jess asked, still staring at the ground.

She didn’t reply, she couldn’t. It was too complicated. They waited on the ground in silence until they could hear the crunch of tires on the gravel road outside the small compound. Jacob and John appeared from behind the fence near the road, followed by a dozen guards. She locked eyes with him and felt her body move towards him involuntarily but she was pulled back roughly by one of the guards next to her. Wincing, she looked from John to Jacob, who was bent over The Cook’s body.

“He was one of my best men,” he said. “Do you know how valuable he was to our cause?” He turned to face her. “I was right about you. You were never one of us. Manipulating my brother to try and take us down from the inside, huh?”

She shook her head, that familiar feeling of anger bubbling up again. She knew he would do this. “You’re wrong. But I couldn’t let him get away with what he’s doing - he’s killing innocent people, Jacob! Killing children! Aren’t you supposed to be _saving_ people? They’re just killing people on sight!” Sighing in frustration, she turned to John. “John, please. You know I couldn’t go back to the Resistance, not after everything that’s happened. But he was torturing and murdering innocent people, I had to help stop him.”

“Poor little liar,” Jacob laughed. “Our man here was following orders and leading the purge, culling the weak. It’s what we do. The Collapse is upon us, we don’t have time to save everyone. The lives of the few outweigh the lives of the many. We find the exceptional ones and bring them into our flock - the rest can be discarded, they are not worthy. That brings me to what to do with you three.”

Jess started to struggle. “I know what I’d like to do,” she spat. “Come here so I can punch you in the dick, you creepy ginger fuck.”

Mercy suppressed a laugh and hung her head to hide her smile. Jacob looked at Jess before backhanding her across the face, a sick smile playing about his lips.

John frowned then, turning to Jacob. “What, exactly, have you been doing up here?”

 _He didn’t know._ Mercy thought, relief washing over her.

Jacob narrowed his eyes at John. “My job. I was tasked to create an army. Those that won’t fight are useless to us, and must be culled.”

“Jacob, those people could have been saved. They could have been sent to Faith, or even to me. Does Joseph know-”

“What Joseph doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Jacob said with an air of annoyance. ‘I’m doing the job I’ve been tasked with, and you should be doing yours. You can’t tell me you’ve been following your orders perfectly either - how many on average don’t make it out of the Cleansings alive?”

She watched as John’s cool facade slipped and his anger broke through. “I _am_ doing my job. You, however, are not. Mercy’s right, we’re supposed to be saving people, not committing genocide. If Joseph finds out-”

“Joseph’s not gonna find out,” Jacob said, grabbing John before shoving him backwards. “Pack ‘em up and take ‘em home.”

They were bundled into a pickup truck and escorted back to the hospital. Mercy saw John try to go to her, but he was pulled back by Jacob. All she wanted to do was go back to the Ranch and leave this madness behind. As much as she had needed to see Pratt, part of her regretted coming. _Maybe this conflict is a good thing._ a little voice said. _Look at the change you made in Holland Valley. What change might you make here?_

Jacob had Mercy and Jess put in adjoining cages outside in the hospital grounds while he grabbed Pratt and went to haul him into the hospital itself. She watched sadly as Jacob tangled his fingers in Pratt’s hair and started to pull him away when John stopped him.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked his brother, gesturing to the cages.

Jacob stopped briefly. “Peaches and I are gonna have a little talk, and then I’ll be back to interview your whore and her new friend.” he said before dragging Pratt off.

John waited for the door to close before he approached her cage. She walked over to the bars and reached towards him, laying her hand on his chest. He was there, he was real, and despite her conversations with Pratt, she finally felt safe. Kind of. She could feel Jess’s eyes on her but she didn’t care, all that mattered at that moment was him.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” he said, reaching for his radio. “Joseph, it’s John. I need you to come to St Francis’. It's urgent.”

“John, what are you doing?” she hissed at him.

He placed his hand over hers briefly. “The right thing,” he replied simply.

The radio crackled. “On my way.” came Joseph’s voice.

While they were waiting for Joseph, Mercy had Jess relay her story about The Cook to John. He stood next to Mercy’s cage, arms crossed and listened silently. When Jess finished her tale, he turned to face her.

“And you?” he asked coldly.

“I was stupid, I admit that - I didn’t stay in the tent like Jacob said. I wanted to find a bathroom so I dragged Staci off for a walk, thinking he could keep a lookout.” He raised a brow at her. “I found an outhouse, and of course that’s when the Whitetails pushed up, when I was in there. So I came out and we started to move toward the compound again, but we were surrounded and the Whitetails started firing, so he pulled me away into the trees instead to avoid the firefight. That’s when we ran into Jess and she took us to the Wolf’s Den.”

“You were in the Wolf’s Den? Jacob’s been after a way in there for years.”

She shrugged. “That’s when Jess told us her story and I didn’t want to believe her. I didn’t think that the Project were actually wiping people out like that. So I agreed to help Jess take down The Cook so I could see for myself. I knew it was going to hurt Jacob’s operations, but he was killing innocent people, John. I couldn’t let him get away with that any more than you couldn’t let Mick get away with his actions.”

John asked no more questions after that. Joseph arrived not long after their conversation and John stepped away from her to meet him. They spoke privately for a few minutes and finally approached the cages together.

“Holy shit,” Jess breathed. “You're Joseph Seed.”

He smiled warmly at her. “And you’re Jess Black. Dutch’s niece, isn’t that right? I believe you had an altercation with one of Jacob’s men.”

“That’s right,” she said stiffly. “Mercy here put a bullet in his head - living up to her name, because that’s a hell of a lot kinder than what I would have done to him.”

Joseph continued to smile serenely. “She does indeed live up to her name.” He turned to her then. “My child, please tell me what happened.”

Again she relayed her story and Joseph stood listening silently, he didn’t even nod, just stared at her, his piercing blue eyes seeming to look into her very soul. Jacob and Pratt returned to the cages as she was relaying her story to Joseph. “Is this what you believe in?” she asked him. “Is this your message? To torture innocent people? To _kill_ innocent people? To kill _children_?” She paused, taking a few gulps of air. “I couldn’t let him continue. I just couldn’t. I agreed to help you, but I won’t be part of this barbaric practice.”

She paused, looking towards Pratt. He had a bloody nose and a black eye, his clothes dishevelled. He was a wreck, but somehow managed a weak smile when she caught his eye. Joseph turned to Jacob and spoke softly.

“Is this true, brother? Have you been employing people to murder those under your care? Did you not think to send them to your brother or sister for guidance and protection if they were not suitable to aid in our defence?”

“I’ve been telling you since the beginning, she’s a liar and a whore,” Jacob said unevenly, clearly trying to keep the anger from his voice. “She’s wormed her way into John’s life and into his bed, making him weak, leading him astray. I have stuck to my path, I am fulfilling my purpose, completing the task you gave me. I’m recruiting those that can protect our flock and stand up when the Collapse comes.”

Joseph nodded a few times and then turned to Pratt. “Gather Jacob’s men, child. Bring them to me. As many as you can.” Pratt nodded and hastily trotted off, returning a few minutes later with about twenty men. They all stood before the cages, some bowing, some kneeling before Joseph. “Please stand, my children. Now, I must ask you to be truthful when you answer my questions - has Jacob, or another under his command, asked you to kill without cause, or have you witnessed the murder of non-believers here without fair judgment?”

There were a few nervous glances and some murmurs of uncertainty, but they all nodded. One man spoke up. “We were told that if we didn’t follow orders, we would meet the same fate.”

Joseph nodded again and looked around at the group. “Drop your weapons and kneel.” he commended before holding his hand towards Jacob. “Keys.” he demanded quietly. Jacob begrudgingly handed over the keys to the cages. Joseph approached Jess’s cage, opened the door and stooped to pick up a dropped rifle, placing it in her hands. “Take the lives of those who you believe deserve to be punished,” he said to her softly. She immediately raised the rifle and pointed it at Joseph. He slowly raised his hands, palms facing her and shrugged gently. “I knew nothing of this, child. This is your chance for absolution - but you do what you feel is just.”

Jess hesitated and turned on the spot, pointed the rifle at Jacob and fired a single shot into his knee, causing him to drop to the ground. Jacob yelled in pain, covering his knee with one hand, trying to stem the bleeding. Jess threw the rifle to the ground and looked around at the group surrounding them. “I was only ever after The Cook,” she said. “If these men are bein’ honest and they were followin’ orders to keep themselves alive, and I kill them when they’re unarmed, then I’m no better than him.” She pointed at Jacob, who was cursing her loudly. Mercy watched sadly as Jess hung her head and started to sob silently.

Joseph approached Jess and put one arm around her, his free hand stroking her arm. “It’s okay to cry, let that anger go,” he said softly. He moved in front of her and pressed his lips to her forehead gently, then turned to Jacob. “John shall mark you with your sin, Jacob. _Now_ , John.”

“Yes Joseph,” John said, fishing in his pocket and retrieving his flip knife. He cut Jacob’s shirt open and then held the knife over an open flame in a barrel nearby until the blade glowed red.

“You’re going to burn my sin into me, little brother?” Jacob laughed, his breathing labored from the pain of the gunshot wound.

John looked at Jacob and smiled. “Yes.” He pressed the hot knife to Jacob’s chest at an angle, heating the blade again and repeating.

Jacob looked at Mercy. “This is all your fault,” he spat. “I’ve been following Joseph’s orders, carrying out his will, but you came along, made John weak. Made his people weak. You’re making the Project _weak_ and we will fall because of you.”

She said nothing, still locked in her cage, watching as John finished the final burn for _W_. John turned to warm the knife again and Jacob leaned away from him, grabbing a dropped pistol and pointed it at her.

The gun went off but she couldn’t move, like her legs had picked that exact moment to decide not to work. There was no pain, though - if she’d been shot, shouldn’t she have felt it? She looked around wildly and saw Pratt lying between Jacob and her cage with a bullet wound in his chest.

“NO!” she yelled, gripping the bars of the cage tightly. Joseph unlocked the door wordlessly and stood back to let her out. She scrambled out of the filthy cage and knelt next to Pratt, cradling his head in her lap, reaching out to try and stem the bleeding from his chest. “You idiot, what have you done?” she sobbed.

He looked up at her and smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time since they’d been reunited, and reached up to cup her cheek. “I was weak, and now I’m strong,” he grinned up and her, struggling for air. “Thank you.”

“Staci, please,” she said softly, her tears dripping onto his face. His hand fell away and he was still, his smile still playing about his lips. She screamed out and bent over him, stroking his hair from his face. “Come back.” she pleaded to his lifeless body. “Please come back.”

“Huh,” said Jacob, still holding the pistol. “Maybe I was wrong about Peaches after all. Not as weak as he seemed.”

Another gun was fired from behind her and she whipped her head around, still holding onto Pratt tightly. Joseph was perfectly still, holding his pistol and pointing it at Jacob. Jacob was looking at Joseph in shock as he bled out from his neck, falling back onto the ground. John was still kneeling next to Jacob, knife in hand and was looking between his brothers, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. Joseph walked towards Jacob and sat behind him, putting his head on his thighs and stroking his brother’s face softly.

“I know you’re feeling like I’ve betrayed you, brother,” Joseph said, his fingers trailing over Jacob’s cheek. “But you left me no choice. You betrayed my trust in you. I told you that killing innocent people is not our way. You need to _prove_ they are sinners, you cannot just assume. Everyone has a purpose. Everyone deserves a chance at salvation, a chance to be saved.” Jacob raised his hand and pointed towards her weakly as he opened his mouth to speak. A sick gurgling came from his throat and the blood pumped grotesquely out of the hole in his neck. “Please Jacob, don’t try to speak. I told you she was needed. I told you she has a role to play here. If you killed her, I would have lost both of my brothers. I couldn’t face what is coming without you both. Goodbye, Jacob. I love you.”

She watched as Jacob’s body went limp, eyes staring blankly at the sky.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter. I know it was a bit of a shocking one! It's all uphill from here, I promise :)

_“You mean you’ll die. There’s no leaving here for us, Mercy. We’re here for the rest of our lives, however long those lives might be.”_

The light was starting to fade as two dead men lay on the ground, their bodies supported by their loved ones. Pratt was still smiling even in his death, so strong, so brave and finally free. Jacob was slumped on the ground, blood oozing from his throat. Joseph moved suddenly, laying Jacob’s head in the dirt before standing and brushing himself off, almost as if nothing had happened. He looked towards Mercy and was about to speak when John, who had been still and silent while his brother was killed, drew his pistol and emptied it into Jacob’s face and chest. He stood, breathing hard, pointing the now empty pistol at his brother’s body. Slowly he raised his head and met Joseph’s gaze.

“I _know_ , I’ll do it.” John snarled, putting the pistol away and walking off, knife in hand and reaching for his belt.

Mercy sat frozen in horror as he walked out of sight. Joseph spoke to Jess. “We will take what we need from the Whitetail Mountains and leave. You need not fear us. We will keep our Gate, and lay no further claim to this land. I promise.”

Jess looked at him suspiciously. “What do you need?”

He smiled at her. “Half of your supplies and any persons willing to join our cause,” he replied simply.

Jess baulked. “All I can do is ask, I dunno how receptive they’d be to that idea.”

“No child, you won’t be asking. The deputy will.”

Mercy looked up at them, still holding onto Pratt tightly. “What?”

Joseph approached and crouched next to her. “I want you to go back and meet with the Whitetail Militia. Tell them we will leave them be if they part with half of their supplies and anyone willing to join our cause.”

She looked from him to Pratt, confused. “I… I need to farewell him properly. He deserves a proper goodbye. I don’t want him just… just… thrown in a ditch. Forgotten.”

Joseph put a hand on her shoulder. “We will honour his life before you depart. I don’t expect you to leave straight away.” He stood and began giving orders to people, but she didn’t listen to him, lost once more in her grief.

Jess came to kneel next to her. “Sounds like he’s buildin’ a pyre for him,” she said. “Do you want me to stay with him while you find John?”

Mercy shook her head. “No, I want to stay with him. I need to protect him.” She knew she was being irrational but she couldn't bring herself to leave him lying in the dirt with strangers.

Jess nodded. “He seemed like a good man,” she said.

“He was.” They were silent for a long time, Mercy gently stroking Pratt's hair and smoothing his shirt over his chest. Jess sat next to her, looking uncomfortably between Mercy and the movements of those around them. Without looking up from Pratt, Mercy spoke again. “Will you join us, or stay with Eli?”

Jess inhaled sharply. “I appreciate all you've done for me today… all you've sacrificed,” she replied carefully, staring at the cages. “But after all I've been through with this fuckin’ cult, I can't join them.”

“I understand.”

“But,” Jess continued. “I’ll take you to the Wolf’s Den and back here when you’re ready. It’s the least I can do.”

The two pyres were assembled quickly and two of the Chosen came to move Pratt's body, but Mercy only accepted help from one, insisting she help move him to his final resting place. She stood next to his head and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, brushing the hair from his face one final time. “Goodbye Staci,” she whispered. “Thank you. For everything.”

She stepped back and looked between the two wooden structures, Pratt on one, Jacob on the other, and shivered. So many men had lost their lives in one day and she was responsible. _But how many did you save?_ John reappeared and stood beside her. He placed one hand on her shoulder briefly and gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling away. She stopped him, holding onto his hand tightly, thinking of a conversation she'd had with Pratt as they were packing up after training at the Wolf's Den the day before.

_Lost in thought, she sat on a rock near the Wolf's Den helipad, stroking the burn marks on her arms absent-mindedly. Pratt knelt before her, brushing his fingers over the marks gently before taking her hands in his._

_”I was wrong about John making you weak, I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking up at her. “If anything he’s made you stronger - look at what you’ve achieved. The way you changed him, helped the people of Holland Valley, now helping save the people of this region from years of torment. To have survived all you have in the last year, that’s strength.”_

_She bit her lip and nodded. “You're not completely wrong,” she replied. “He’s become a weakness of mine.”_

_He smiled at her hands sadly. “You’d better keep him safe, then.”_

John pulled her back, away from the pyres to make room for Joseph, who stood before them, facing the crowd of Chosen that had gathered to watch their Herald’s farewell. Joseph looked solemnly at the ground, clasping his hands in front of him before raising his head and starting his eulogy.

“My brother Jacob was a fighter. He fought our parents. He fought the government. He fought me.” He paused, his voice breaking slightly at the thought, before smiling softly and continuing. “But mostly, he fought himself. The demons that he brought home from the war consumed him. He thought he was a weapon without a purpose. That he was a warrior without a legacy. But look around you. You are his legacy. All of you willing to protect our Family from The Collapse.” The Chosen soldiers cheered loudly. “To purge the sinful from our home. And you will, my children. You will purge the sinners from our home. But we must work together to guide them down The Path first. Everyone deserves a chance at salvation.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Everyone.”

Finally, he looked at Mercy and extended one hand towards her. She stood, frozen, anchored to the spot she stood as John carefully extracted his hand from her grip and ushered her forwards. “I did not know Staci Pratt personally,” Joseph said. “But perhaps the deputy here would like to say a few words about him.”

What could she say? All eyes were on her as she floundered next to Joseph. She cleared her throat and looked at her hands as she spoke. “I only knew Staci for a short time before I came to Hope County. But in the few weeks we spent together after I moved across the country, we quickly became friends, and he showed me a side to myself I never knew I had. He helped me relax, he helped me feel free. He was kind and caring, and supportive… he had a tremendous heart. So sweet, so loving.” She closed her eyes as she thought back on experiences they’d shared together, one particular evening coming to mind where they stumbled into his apartment, drunk and danced around the living room, laughing like maniacs. “He loved life, he loved music, he loved people. His favorite song was I Only Have Eyes for You by The Flamingos… he told me he couldn’t wait to find someone he could love so fiercely. I didn’t understand him then, but now-” She glanced at John briefly but couldn’t look him in the eye. “But now I do. He saved me tonight, and for that, I will never be able to thank him enough.” Her throat was starting to constrict and she shook her head, walking back to John with her head down. He put his arm around her silently as Joseph lit a torch and set the pyres alight, first Jacob's and then Pratt's. She turned away, not wanting to watch him burn, and walked over to Jess.

“Take me to the Wolf's Den.” she said steadily. “Let's finish this for good.”

***

She found herself standing at the entrance to the Wolf's Den once more. Jess had asked Eli to put a call out to bring as many Whitetails back as possible to listen to what Mercy had to say. She'd left Joseph and John at the hospital, briefly explaining to John what she was tasked with by his brother. He wanted to accompany her but she refused - he was still a target and he'd be putting himself in danger.

_”I won’t lose you too. I can’t.”_

Eventually, she had hundreds of people gathered before her, looking at her curiously. Eli made his way to the front of the group with Tammy and Wheaty following closely behind. Jess stood beside her with her arms folded across her chest.

“Everyone shut up.” Jess barked. The group fell quiet as they turned their attention to the two women before them.

Mercy took a deep breath. “Some of you might know me already, for those that don't, my name is Mercy, and I'm not a newlywed that got stuck in Hope County. I'm the junior deputy that was tasked with arresting Joseph Seed.” There were a few gasps of shock from the crowd and Eli frowned at her, crossing his arms and fixing her with a hard stare. She started to tell her story, explaining how she was captured by John, briefly describing the torture she experienced at his hand and then talking about the ills she suffered at the hands of the Resistance. She spoke of how she was able to influence John to improve his treatment of new recruits to their cause, how she fell in love with the community they had built, describing her experience with Brother James and his family, rescuing his wife and young children from the Resistance. Then she explained how neither John nor Joseph knew about what Jacob was orchestrating in the Whitetail Mountains, and that Joseph had asked her to come and speak to them. Jess supported her story, explaining what she'd seen and heard, telling them about Joseph giving her a chance at revenge and absolution, that she used the opportunity to shoot Jacob in the knee.

Mercy paused and closed her eyes briefly, drawing strength from thoughts of John and Pratt. She opened her eyes again and looked at the crowd before her. “Before I was rescued from Hope County Jail, a barrel of Bliss exploded next to me and I was knocked out by the drug. When I was there, in the Bliss, I saw Joseph, and he showed me his vision of the Collapse. I can still smell it, I can still hear it. It haunts my dreams.” She licked her lips, recalling Joseph’s words to her when he showed her his vision. “I saw the world on fire, death and destruction caused by leaders who were too impotent to act. Bullies who were too addled to lead righteously. He asked me if this was a world I wanted to be part of, where communities were being torn apart, where violence and death prevailed. That is not a world for our children. What are we doing to ourselves? Every day we take a step closer to the end, a step closer to our own destruction, and he’s trying to prevent that by saving as many people as he can. Our leaders are weak and do not have our best interests at heart. They do not think about their people, only about themselves. They play their little games and we get caught in the crossfire. We cannot sit back and await the inevitable. We must _act_. Our society is broken, and the only way we can move forward is to take a step back. I chose to stand with him. I hope you will do the same. Yes, the Project have done terrible things. I know that, I have seen it for myself. But I have also seen the overwhelming _good_ they have done. I didn’t want to feel powerless in the face of what’s coming. Joining the Project gives me a chance to fight for humanity. Wouldn’t you do anything to save those you love? Your friends? Your family?”

She looked around the group, letting her last point sink in. Some people were nodding in agreement, others were shaking their heads, others stared at her blankly. “Jacob Seed is dead,” she continued to an audible gasp from the crowd. “Joseph killed him as punishment for his actions towards you and yours. It was never part of Joseph’s plan to torture and kill innocent people. I have come on his behalf to implore you to join us. For those that wish to stay here, we ask you to give us half of your supplies and in return, the Project will leave the Whitetail Mountains and you will not need to fear us again. We will resign ourselves to Jacob’s Gate and have no further contact with you. Anyone who wishes to join me is more than welcome and is encouraged to come back to St Francis’ Hospital with me tonight. I’ll be leaving in one hour, and will require your answer then.”

She took a step away from the crowd and looked around wearily. Jess turned to her and nodded. “You did good,” she said. “I’ll help you bring the supplies to the hospital if they agree, as promised.”

“Thank you,” Mercy said quietly.

Eli approached her with Tammy and Wheaty. “You were really one of them this whole time?” he asked her. She nodded. “Where’s your fake husband?”

The blood drained from her face and Jess spoke for her. “He died tonight, saving her from Jacob. He tried to kill her.”

“Fucking hell,” Wheaty breathed. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. He wasn’t my husband, but he was my colleague and my friend. He was captured by Jacob after we failed to arrest Joseph… I came up to the mountains to see him only four days ago. Now he’s dead.” She sighed deeply.

Tammy spoke up. “I’m sorry your friend died, but we’re not giving you our supplies. That fucking cult has taken too much from us already.”

Eli turned to speak to Tammy when about a dozen men and women approached them. “We’ll go with you,” one of the women said. 

“Like hell you will!” Tammy said angrily.

“Tammy,” Eli said warningly. “They’re free to make their own decision. If they want to join her and the Project, then they’re free to do so. We’re not holding them here.” Tammy turned and walked away from him, pulling Wheaty with her. “I’ll get back to you with my answer before you leave.” he said and followed Tammy back into the bunker.

The hour seemed to crawl by, but she was surprised by the number of people that agreed to join her. She hadn’t done a head count, but she estimated at least eighty people had agreed to go back to the hospital with her. She checked John’s watch - he’d given it to her before she left so she could time her meeting - and found the hour was nearly up. She pushed herself off the rock she was leaning on and walked towards the bunker entrance again as Eli resurfaced alone.

“Half our supplies for the Project to leave us alone?” he asked cautiously. She nodded. “Shouldn’t be hard to resupply… alright. But if we see even one Peggie outside that damn bunker, we’ll shoot them on sight.” He held out his hand.

“Fine.” she said, putting her hand in his and shaking it firmly.

***

It was nearly midnight by the time they’d packed the vehicles with the supplies and organised those that wanted to go with her. She counted one hundred and three people total, and they all followed her and Jess to the hospital in their vehicles, surrendering their weapons and placing them in the truck Jess and Mercy took. The hospital finally came into view and Jess stopped their truck at the gates. She walked into the grounds alone while Jess organised those that followed them. She looked around to find all the cages empty, and the pyres smouldering softly. Joseph and John walked out of the hospital towards her.

“I’ve brought half of the Whitetail Militia’s supplies and one-hundred and three people with me,” she said, undoing the watch and handing it back to John.

Joseph smiled broadly and moved to embrace her. He was warm and strong, pulling her towards him and holding her in place firmly. He no longer felt dangerous and threatening, but familiar and safe, and she involuntarily relaxed into him, her fingers gripping the back of his vest tightly. “You're ready,” he whispered against her hair. “We’ll hold the ceremony in two days.” He pulled back and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for your assistance, Deputy. I will see you at the ceremony.”

She watched, confused, as he walked off and climbed into the tray of the pickup she arrived in, addressing the crowd behind her with his arms raised high. She turned back to John slowly. He looked as worn out and tired as she felt, but there was a fire in his eyes she hadn’t seen in days. “Ready for what?” she asked him.

“To atone,” he replied simply, before laughing softly to himself. “I guess the gates of Eden aren’t closed to me after all. Are you ready to go home?”

“Home?” she asked tiredly as he reached for her hand.

“To the Ranch,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ve done well, here. You’ve made a difference, saved a lot of people. But now it’s time to leave.”

Butterflies sprang to life in the pit of her belly. _Home._ She stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist, too tired to care they were in the presence of others, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a fluff piece, after all of the turmoil of the last few chapters, poor John and Dep deserve a break.
> 
>  **Warning:** Smut.

The plane came to a gentle stop outside the hangar at the end of the Seed Ranch airstrip as the weak morning light shone through the trees. As it was descending, Mercy's mind returned to Jess and what she’d said before they left to return to Holland Valley.

_”Thank you again for helping me, I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, touching Mercy’s arm in a familiar way. “You know how to contact the Wolf’s Den - if you need me, you know how to get hold of me.”_

It was nice to know she had a friend out there again, someone outside the Ranch. John jumped out as soon as the plane stopped and was met by Brother James as she carefully extracted herself from the gunner’s seat and stepped out onto the wing, losing her footing and immediately sliding off onto the grass. She grunted as she picked herself up hastily, avoiding the gazes of John and James, who stood looking at her blankly. John wrapped his arm around her and steered her towards the house behind Brother James, who was hurrying ahead of them. As they walked through the front door, she saw Anna and the children coming downstairs with him. Anna smiled at them warmly before the four of them left without speaking.

“Where are they going?” Mercy asked as John led her towards the kitchen.

“This is my home,” he said, opening an overhead cupboard and reaching towards the very back. He retrieved a large bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. “And I want to be alone in my home, with you and this bottle.”

She looked at him sceptically. “I thought you weren’t allowed to have alcohol?” she asked as he poured the rich amber liquid into the glasses and held one out to her.

He chuckled. “I kept this for special occasions. Figure we may as well drink it now.” He brought the glass to his mouth and knocked the drink back quickly, running his tongue slowly over his lips.

“Are you sure that's a good idea? You just lost your brother, drowning your pain in alcohol-”

He stalked towards her, bottle in hand, and backed her against the kitchen table, trapping her between it and his body. “Would you prefer I get drunk, or take out my frustrations on someone else?” he whispered in her ear, placing his free hand on the side of her neck.

He was an inch away from reverting to the man she’d met in that cell, his thumb pressing into her throat. She could fight him, which would push him to do God-knows-what to her or someone else, or she could indulge him. After all the trouble she’d caused over the last few days, she felt like she was deserving of some sort of punishment, but not by him. A small part of her wondered if he would do something, and she realised his actions were in her hands. Without breaking eye contact, she downed the contents of her glass. The alcohol burned her mouth and throat, and she inhaled sharply through her nose as he took the glass from her hand, filling it up and passing it back to her. She watched as he walked back to his glass, filled it up and downed another shot, refilling his glass again. “You’re going to be sick,” she said.

He gestured to her to drink her next one. “I’m going to be drunk, and that’s exactly what I want. Come on Deputy, down the hatch.”

She took the next shot and he grabbed her glass once more. “Music?” she asked, thinking it would distract him from his inevitable alcohol poisoning. She’d had Pratt’s song stuck in her head, and couldn’t think of a better way to honor him than by playing it in his memory.

He nodded, grabbing his glass and the bottle before walking back out to the living area where his laptop was sitting on the table. He opened it up and faced it towards her before having his third shot. “Go ahead,” he mumbled, gesturing lazily at the computer.

How long had it been since she used a computer? It was something she used every day in her old life, now she didn’t even think about them. She opened the web browser and brought up a music streaming service, finding the song quickly and pressing play. Slowly, she took her third shot and backed away from the table, smiling to herself, and started to sway on the spot. She closed her eyes and let the music envelope her, remembering Pratt requesting this in a bar and dancing with her. That’s when he told her it was his favourite. John's hands found their way to her waist, sliding around to her back and she found herself pulled against his body as he held her, swaying with her to the song. Mercy wrapped her arms around his torso, laying her head on his chest, feeling the vibrations through him as he hummed softly along with the song.

 _You are here, and so am I,_  
_Maybe millions of people go by,_  
_But they all disappear from view,_  
_And I only have eyes for you._

As the song ended, John stepped away from her and poured another two shots. Shaking her head to try and rid herself of the sadness for Pratt that was creeping into her mind, Mercy returned to the laptop, choosing to play something slow and heavy that she used to enjoy listening to. She drank her fourth shot, feeling the alcohol quickly taking effect and stepped away from the table again, closed her eyes and started dancing to the song she hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime. It didn’t take long for John to join her, standing behind her and grabbing her hips, pulling them sharply to his and pinning their bodies together, swaying in time to the music. She brushed her hair to one side and turned her face toward him as he brought one hand up to splay out over her stomach. She could smell the alcohol on him as his beard brushed her shoulder and leaned back against him, head resting on his shoulder. Suddenly she wasn’t in the middle of country Montana, she was in a bar in Seattle, drunk and dancing with a stranger.

Another song started and he stepped away to pour another shot. Mercy didn’t hesitate to take it from him and knocked it back greedily before reaching for John again. He dropped his empty glass and it shattered on the floor but he didn’t stop, just stepped towards her and pulled her to him once more, his forehead pressed against hers and his hands settling on her ass. She looked at him through the ever-thickening fog of drunkenness that was overtaking her as she brought her arms of around his neck. John had his eyes closed and was mouthing the words to the song, which she was surprised he knew. Craning her neck slightly, Mercy pressed her lips to his roughly and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. They continued to sway to the music and he rolled his hips forwards into hers, making her moan against his mouth. His fingers lifted the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it up over her head in one swift motion before his mouth found hers again, slipping his tongue between her lips. Mercy he could taste the whiskey on John's tongue as it stroked against her own and she pulled back, reaching around him to grab the bottle. Grinning, she brought the bottle to her lips and took a mouthful. It still burned like hell but she didn’t care, she got what she wanted from him - that look of shock and desire. He had taken off his vest and opened his shirt by that point and he took the bottle from her, taking a large mouthful himself. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and watched drops of whiskey escape the corner of his mouth, ghosting over his beard and landing on his chest. Mercy leaned forward and licked them off, running her tongue up to his Adam’s Apple and smiled to herself as she felt him shiver.

John's hand pressed down on her shoulder forcefully and she found herself kneeling before him, looking up into his eyes that were dark with lust. Hazily, she reached for his belt and popped it open, then slowly unzipped his jeans and dragged them down to his knees with his boxers. She didn’t expect to be greeted with the sight of eight fresh, deep cuts above his knee, trailing up his thigh. They weren’t bleeding anymore but they looked angry and painful. She looked up at him questioningly.

“For shooting Jacob.” he muttered, bringing the bottle to his lips again.

Closing her eyes, Mercy leaned forward and took him into her mouth, delighting in the noise he made. She glanced up and him and saw him take another mouthful of whiskey, his free hand coming to rest lightly on the back on her head. She moved freely around him, running her tongue along the underside of his cock and swirling it slowly around the head. Another guttural sound was ripped from his throat as he pulled away from her and offered her the bottle, breathing hard. While she took another mouthful he discarded the rest of his clothes and dragged her to her feet, his hands going immediately to her jeans and fumbling with the buttons. She undressed, leaving her clothes in a pile with his and he pulled her by the hand to the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. He took the whiskey from her and stepped over the bear’s head, but she didn’t see it in her drunken state and tripped over it gracelessly, landing face-down on the rug.

John set the bottle down on the coffee table and landed heavily on his knees next to her. He reached out and pushed her over onto her back before covering her body with his, claiming her mouth again. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming as he kissed her sloppily, forcing her legs apart with his own. Mercy had no warning before John thrust himself into her and she gasped loudly, turning her head to the side and digging her nails into his shoulders. He sunk his teeth into the exposed skin on her neck, biting down just a little too hard as he drove himself into her. She turned her head back, dislodging his hold on her and pressed her lips to his again. The fur was soft and warm under her back, and she thought vaguely about what it would be like to sleep on, then what he would look like on it as he lay beneath her. Gathering all of her drunken strength, she managed to unbalance him, causing him to fall to the side and she straddled him a little too fast, losing her own balance as the room spun out of control and her head came crashing down against his chest. She lay still for a moment while she waited for the world to right itself again. Clearly impatient, John reached down between them and lined himself up again, raising his hips to press himself into her. She moaned against his chest, forcing herself up and reaching out for his hand for balance.

He looked just as she pictured, all flushed cheeks and pale skin against the black fur, his eyes drinking her in as she rode him. Smirking at him, Mercy slid her free hand down over her body slowly, starting at her neck, sliding over her breasts and finally coming to a stop between her legs. She rubbed small, tight circles around her clit and the sensation was almost overwhelming. Closing her eyes, she let her head drop back as she touched herself, knowing John was looking at her and felt his rhythm pick up as he thrust his hips up to meet her. She finally broke, coming hard, the combination of her fingers and him inside her pushing her over into a blissful orgasm and she cried out, not caring who could hear her. He reached out with his free hand and pulled her body down so she was laying on his chest, his other hand still holding hers tightly. She ran her tongue up the side of his neck and he came hard, his voice cracking as he called her name. They lay still for a long time, listening to the music playing from the laptop and eventually passed out in front of the fireplace.

***

When she awoke in the early evening, Mercy found herself still on the bearskin rug with her back pressed against John’s chest and his arm securely around her waist in a familiar way, but the blanket from his bed had been placed over them. She stretched slowly and opened her eyes, regretting it immediately. The fire had been lit and the light it emitted seemed to burn her eyes. John groaned from behind her and pulled her in closer.

“No.” he murmured against her shoulder.

“No what?” she rasped, her throat dry.

“Just no.” he said tiredly, releasing her to roll over onto his back, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning. “How did we get down here?”

She laughed and turned into his side, pressing her lips to his cheek. It was strange to feel normal again, safe and happy in a bubble that contained him, the blanket, the rug and the fireplace. It didn't last long as thoughts of Pratt and Jacob invaded her mind once more, dark tendrils of misery that threatened to suffocate her.

“Don't be sad about Jacob,” he said softly, eyes closed. “He would have destroyed us in the end.”

“I know, it doesn’t stop me from feeling regret over the way things turned out.” she replied. “I miss Staci, he didn’t have to die like that. He deserved so much more.”

John turned his head and looked at her, a soft expression on his face she’d never seen before. “He gave his life to save you, and for that, I am eternally grateful.”

Brother James came into the room at that moment. “Good morning,” he said sarcastically. She looked at him, suddenly embarrassed by her nudity under the cover of the blanket and pulled it up further. “Don't worry about that, I'm the one that covered you up.” he laughed.

“Where are we at with preparations for the Atonement?” John asked, extracting himself from the blanket and standing slowly, clearly _not_ bothered by his own nudity in front of others. He walked to the table and grabbed his boxers from the floor.

“I've got men setting up now in Fall’s End, but Mary May and Pastor Jerome aren't happy about it.”

John rolled his eyes. “Those two aren't happy about anything. I'll give the dear Pastor a call,” he grumbled and fished around in his jeans. “And Joseph?”

“I’ll collect him in a convoy.”

“Good.”

Mercy awkwardly wrapped herself in the blanket and stood, trudging up the stairs as she heard John start to speak. “Hello, Jerome. I believe there have been some misgivings about us borrowing your church?”

Thinking nothing of it, she threw the blanket haphazardly onto the bed and went to shower - it was the first hot shower she’d had in nearly a week and it felt amazing. When she came out of the bathroom, John was sitting on the bed, a wireless tattoo machine and a ziploc bag of sterile needles next to him. He was studying the label on a bottle of black ink as she reached out and picked up the tattoo gun, turning it over carefully.

“What’s all this for?” she asked curiously.

“Inventory checking,” he said simply, putting the bottle of ink in a ziploc bag too.

“What exactly is expected of me at this Atonement?” she asked cautiously.

“All you need to do is say you’ll accept the Word of Joseph into your heart.”

“That’s it?”

John grinned at her. “Oh, there’s a bit more to it than that, but you get the idea.”

 _A bit more to it. Right._ Mercy looked at the tattoo gun that now lay on the mattress between them. “Do you tattoo anything else, aside from people's sins?”

“Yes, I did all of Joseph’s, and some of my own.” he replied, looking at her thoughtfully. “You want another one.”

“I’ve been considering it.” she replied evenly.

“What do you want?” John asked, his eyes bright with curiosity.

She looked at the Book of Joseph on the nightstand. “That.” she said, pointing to the symbol on the cover.

He picked up the tattoo gun slowly. “Why do you want that, Deputy?”

Mercy was confident in her answer - she had thought of this before, but never found the right moment to ask him. “Because I can't think of a better representation of my time in Hope County. Everything I've done has revolved around the Project, it’s what brought me here, it’s what I fought against, it’s what I fight for now. I’m proud of what I've achieved here in the Project, it's become such a huge part of my life… it is my life. I might not be the God-fearing woman Joseph expected, but the support and love I’ve found within this community… well that’s important to me. It’s worth protecting. I want to wear that pride, not as a sin, but as a message of hope. A reminder to myself of what I have and can achieve in this community.”

“And where do you want this symbol of pride?”

She shrugged. “You choose.”

John looked her over slowly and reached out, his fingers fluttering over her neck, then her shoulder and down her arm. He picked up her wrist and turned it over thoughtfully so her palm was face up in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over her skin, nodding to himself. “Lie down on your back with your arm on the towel - I’m not getting blood and ink on the sheets.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. _Typical._ She did as he asked, removing the towel from her body and laying down with her arm on it. John took a few minutes to prepare the gun before it buzzed to life. His fingers brushed over her arm again, turning it over and pressing his thumb to the underside of her wrist. “Here.” he grinned, licking his lips. She’d seen that look before, it was the look of the hunter preparing to mark his prey. He leaned forward, his head bent over her hand, and set to work. Like the last time, it was uncomfortable, not totally unbearable, but the pain increased the more he retraced the lines. Finally, the gun was switched off and he sat back, looking down at his handiwork proudly.

Mercy sat up and brought her wrist to her face, looking at the deep black lines, their edges tinged with pink from where the needle had irritated her skin. There it was, the symbol of Eden’s Gate, a stark dark mark on her skin. It wasn’t as big as she expected, maybe just over an inch across, the lines neat and clean. He had not filled them, just left the outline. John took her hand in his, bringing her fingers to his mouth and pressing his lips to them.

“Do you feel ready?” he asked quietly.

She took a deep breath, still staring at the tattoo. “Yes.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, I wanted to make sure I was completely happy with it before posting it.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my friend B. Without them, and their encouragement and support, this story would never have been posted; and most certainly wouldn't have been what it is today. <3
> 
> It's a really long chapter, sorry ._.

When she awoke on the day of her atonement, John had already left the Ranch and Mercy found herself alone. She stretched out, looking at the timber ceiling for a few minutes before standing and opening the curtains. It was a bright morning and she smiled to herself as she surveyed the property that was now her home. She had referred to it as home a few times, but now she really _felt_ it. The thought of returning to a dank apartment filled her with dread, and she sometimes wondered how she lived so long in the claustrophobia that was big cities when she could have been living in a beautiful part of the country like this. Turning from the window, she caught sight of a long white dress hanging from the front of the wardrobe and walked over to it, finding a note speared on the hanger.

_See you at the church._

She frowned. _What?_ It was a simple garment, long and straight, with capped sleeves and made from a thin, slightly rough material. There were three buttons on the rounded neckline that she could undo to open it further. Biting her lip, she looked around nervously. She should have asked more questions about the damn Atonement. Anna came into the room at that moment, slowly opening the door.

“Oh, you’re up!” she remarked. “I was coming to get you, you’ll need to start getting ready!”

Mercy pointed at the note, confused. “Did I miss something? Is this a… er…”

The older woman shook her head quickly and grinned. “Oh, no,” Anna laughed. “We all wear white when we atone. It's a symbol of purity. Best be quick, we need to leave in an hour!”

Mind spinning with too many questions she knew no one would answer, she took herself off to shower. When she came out of the bathroom in her underwear, Anna started making a fuss of her hair, then helped her put the dress on. “You look lovely,” she remarked.

Mercy stood looking at herself in the bathroom mirror once more, the long white dress hiding her scars, save the burn marks on her arms and the slowly healing tattoo on her wrist. Anna had managed to pull the top section of her hair back into a plait, leaving the rest to float around her shoulders. As she stood there, she thought back again on how much she’d changed in such a short amount of time. On the surface she'd changed dramatically - her hair was longer, sitting now on the tops of her breasts, her eyes the same dark blue, but seemed somehow darker, her brows bent in worry and anticipation. Her skin was scarred and marked, but she held herself with a new confidence she hadn't had before. Back straight, shoulders square, she was ready for whatever Hope County saw fit to throw her way next.

Under the surface, however, that was another story. She felt like the woman she used to be had been ripped out of her almost a year ago, pressed and twisted and pulled into a new shape before being shoved back into the husk of her twenty-nine-year-old body which was now too small, too young to house the creature she had become. She was not the same Mercy anymore, the experiences and the horrors she had endured had changed her almost beyond her own recognition.

Then there was the cause of it all - Joseph Seed. If it weren't for him, if it weren't for the Project at Eden's Gate, she wouldn't be here. If it weren't for him putting her in John's path, making him her keeper, she wouldn't be here. If it weren't for him asking her to help John “find the light”, she wouldn't be here. Not that she did much, if she really thought about it - she didn't go out of her way to change him. She was just there, and apparently, that was enough. Maybe Joseph knew all along. Maybe he knew about more than just the Collapse.

Now here she was, waiting to go to church, to participate in a ceremony she knew next to nothing about. A year ago she would never have given a second thought to going to a church, it just wasn't something that fit in with her life; now she was going to one to _atone_ , of all things. Atone for killing innocent men and women, atone for trying to destroy everything Joseph had worked so hard to build.

Anna tugged on her arm gently, pulling her from her thoughts. “We have to go.”

They met Brother James and the children downstairs. They all moved outside to a waiting pickup and began the short journey to Fall’s End. Mercy sat in the front seat with Brother James and absent-mindedly picked at the skin around her nails while everyone else in the car talked animatedly amongst themselves. She could feel their excitement but couldn’t emulate it, her mind focused on what the ceremony would entail.

“Will Faith be there?” she heard Eloise, their daughter, ask.

“I don’t think so,” Brother James said. “Not today.”

Mercy listened quietly, staring out of the window at the farms as they drove past them. She still hadn’t met Faith in person and suspected that might have been on purpose. John didn’t seem to care much for his adopted sister and rarely spoke of her, and she’d had no contact with Faith since their meeting in the Bliss. She had tried asking him about Faith a couple of times, but he would just shrug and brush the question aside.

The one-street town soon came into view and their truck stopped outside the church. Panic rose up in her chest as she looked at it - it was decorated this time, a red carpet rolling down the stairs to the footpath, covered in flower petals. White lace adorned a lattice arbour, bunches of Bliss flowers sitting atop it. The sign to the left of the door had the word _ATONEMENT_ painted over its original message. Turning towards the open doors, she could see the small church was packed. At the other end of the road stood a small group of locals, clearly non-believers, watching in interest at a safe distance. Project patrols were dotted along the road and she saw snipers on some of the roofs, there were even a couple of helicopters on the road by the church.

Mercy climbed out of the car with some difficulty, her legs restricted by the long dress. Anna and the children were already making their way up the steps to the church, which left her standing silently next to Brother James. He smiled at her and took her arm, leading her up the red carpet and into the church. Joseph and John stood at the other end by the altar, singing along with the congregation, their voices soaring high as three people stood in the aisle before them, also wearing white. The air crackled as she entered the church and looked around the room, her gaze settling on John. He looked up and paused as he caught sight of her, one corner of his mouth hitching up. Brother James let her go, leaving her to walk down the aisle towards them on her own as he skirted the pews and stood behind John. She felt naked and exposed as the congregation watched her walk towards the other end of the room. Joseph was holding one of his Bibles, a large tome bound in white leather and embossed in gold. The song ended and he greeted the congregation before allowing John to take over. From where she was standing, she couldn’t really see what was happening, but she could see Joseph hold the book out to the man at the front as John spoke. 

“Our devoted, we are gathered here to bear witness to those willing to atone for their sins. Will you, Edward Rollins, place your hand upon the Word of Joseph, and renounce your sins and admit your transgressions?”

The man reached out without hesitation and proudly proclaimed “Yes!” The Bible was withdrawn and John stepped forward, taking a clean knife from a woman to his left and appeared to unbutton the man’s shirt. The knife swiped cleanly over the man’s chest and he did not wince or shy away, but stood proud and tall as John handed the knife back to the woman. She started to clean it with a fresh white cloth as Joseph reached for the man, gripping the back of his neck and pulling him forwards so their foreheads touched. He whispered something to Edward before letting him go. She watched him walk happily over to his family in the pews, the two teenage boys and older woman embracing him enthusiastically.

A second man was now in front of Joseph, who once more was holding his Bible towards him. “Will you, Peter Bell, place your hand upon the Word of Joseph, and renounce your sins and admit your transgressions?” John asked steadily.

Peter, like Edward, placed his hand quickly on the book and agreed, allowing John to slice through the tattoo on his arm, which Mercy couldn’t see. The young woman in front of her backed up slightly, tripping over the hem of her own long white dress and stumbling backwards clumsily. She caught the young woman who turned around gratefully before recognition and then annoyance flitted across her face. It was Penny, the teenage girl who asked John for dinner in this very church so many months ago.

“Oh,” she mumbled, turning away to face Joseph and John again. “Thanks.”

Once more John passed the knife back to be cleaned and Joseph held the book out to Penny. If Penny was standing here then she must have been marked at some point, but she was clearly apprehensive about being _cut_. Mercy could see Penny trembling, her long, wavy blond hair twitching as her body shook.

“Will you, Penny McAlister, place your hand upon the Word of Joseph, and renounce your sins and admit your transgressions?”

There was a pause where Penny stood, looking at Joseph apprehensively, then at John for help. But he couldn’t help her in the way she wanted, Mercy knew. He was there to help her atone, not coddle her, not save her from the inevitable pain the knife would bring. Mercy stepped forwards and brushed Penny’s hair aside soothingly.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” she said in a low voice so only Penny could hear her. “You will be absolved of your sin so you can join your family in Eden’s Gate. If you cannot atone, you cannot pass through the Gate. I know you don’t want that, and we don’t want that for you.” She paused, letting her words sink in, before using John's favourite line. “All you have to do is say _yes_.”

Penny looked at her, face wrought with worry, but gave a small, shaky nod. She reached her hand towards to bible and rested her palm on it. “Yes,” she said meekly.

Joseph covered Penny’s hand with his gently before removing his hand and the Bible, stepping aside to let John through. The neckline for Penny’s dress was already scooped low, and Mercy watched silently as he tugged it down a fraction more to reveal her tattoo - _LUST_. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth to keep from smiling as she remembered how disappointed the girl had been when John refused her offer of dinner. Penny’s whimper of pain pulled her back into the present and she watched, somewhat sadly, as the girl stumbled back to her waiting parents, clutching her chest.

Finally, it was Mercy's turn and she found herself standing before Joseph. He smiled at her warmly before his hand came up to the back of her neck, pulling her towards him so their foreheads touched.

“Welcome, child,” he said softly. “We’ve been waiting a long time for you to be here today.” Slowly, he released her, fingers trailing down the side of her neck before pulling away, and held the book out to her.

John stood behind his brother, his eyes dark as he smirked at her. He opened his mouth and spoke to the room. “Will you, _Deputy Mercy_ , place your hand upon the Word of Joseph, and renounce your sins and admit your transgressions?”

Mercy looked from him, then to Joseph and finally to the book, hundreds of moments from the last year jumping to the forefront of her mind. _Moving to Seattle. Arriving in Hope County. The helicopter crash. Being captured in the Ranch. Torture at John’s hands. Being baptized in the river. John kissing her for the first time. Kyle Miller, the man she had aided at her first Cleansing. John sharing her bed. She sharing his. The firefight outside the prison. Being tortured by the Resistance. Joseph’s vision of the Collapse. Rescuing Brother James’s family. Reuniting with Pratt. Killing The Cook. Pratt grinning at her as he died. Jacob’s look of betrayal as he realised he was killed by his brother._

All of those moments led her here, now, standing in front of these two men in a church. “Yes,” she said determinedly, placing her right hand on the Book. “Yes, I will atone.”

Joseph bowed his head and pulled the book away, stepping aside as John approached her, pulling his flip knife from his pocket instead of taking the blade he’d used for the other three participants. He deftly undid the buttons on her dress and pushed the material aside to reveal the tattoo beneath her collarbone. He bowed his head towards her as he pressed the tip of the knife to her skin next to the tattoo. It felt suddenly as if it was just the two of them in the church, she couldn’t see anyone else but him. Mercy heard John's breath catch in his throat as he drew the blade through the tattoo slowly, absolving her of her sin. She stiffened but didn’t move as he completed his task, drawing a deep breath through her nose as he pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket and placed it over the fresh wound to stem the bleeding. He raised his head to meet her gaze and she put her hand on his to hold the handkerchief herself. His hand lingered for just a little too long and she narrowed her eyes at him as he stepped away to allow his brother to stand before her once more.

Joseph leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Welcome to our family, Mercy.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead before stepping around her as John pulled her back to the side, slipping his arm behind her back casually. Joseph began his sermon, welcoming the new members of his family officially. Brother James gave her a warm smile as she looked over her shoulder at him. He was standing next to the wall in the background, looking over the congregation quietly. As she surveyed the front row of the pews, her eyes landed briefly on Penny, who was looking at her darkly. She leaned into John and rested her head in the crook of his neck, watching Joseph as he spoke to his flock, his words full of conviction and power, his voice filling the room, gripping those before him. From behind her, she heard Brother James’ radio crackle to life softly.

_”James, are you… hear me? It’s Nancy.”_

Mercy froze - she’d completely forgotten about Nancy, who revealed herself to be a member of the Project after the helicopter crash. John turned his head to the side so he could try and listen to the report, but Brother James had stepped towards the very back of the church, so John followed him, leaving her standing alone and watching them. Something was wrong - the colour drained from John’s face and he looked at Joseph quickly, before approaching him hurriedly. Joseph stopped and looked at John calmly.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

John nodded and Joseph closed his eyes, turning his face upward. There was that storm within him - the storm that unsettled her so much when he visited the Ranch. He smiled slowly, his face splitting into a wide smile as he opened his eyes and surveyed the congregation. “The time has come, my children. The Collapse is upon us. Gather your loved ones - we must march to Eden’s Gate!”

She watched, confused, as the church was quickly emptied, Joseph’s followers piling into the trucks along the road in Fall’s End and driving North out of the town. She stood in the doorway to the church, watching as Brother James ushered his family into one of the trucks and spoke with John and Joseph briefly before driving away. John came back up the church steps and took her hand, pulling her towards the road.

“We have to go.”

“Go where? What do you mean the Collapse is upon us? What happened?”

“Mercy, we have to go, _now_.”

John bundled her into a pickup with Joseph, who was murmuring into his radio, a member of the Chosen driving and another in the tray with a rifle, following the other vehicles. She sat between the remaining Seed brothers, twisting in her seat and looking at the folk of Fall’s End as they gathered in the street, cheering as the Project vehicles left. Some were firing guns into the air and yelling obscenities at them. Some were getting into their own vehicles and _following_ them.

“Yeah, get the fuck out of here you pieces of shit!” one man yelled at them as they sped past him through an abandoned roadblock.

Joseph put his radio down and started to sing _Amazing Grace_ to himself quietly, carefully studying the farms and mountains around them as they drove through Holland Valley. His hands were folded neatly in his lap and he seemed totally unfazed, much as he had when she’d tried to arrest him.

“Did you contact Faith?” John asked Joseph sharply. Joseph merely nodded in reply, still singing.

“What’s going on?” she asked, watching more cars pull out of Project-controlled outposts as they passed them. She saw men and women syphoning gas into canisters and loading them into trucks, as well as stripping the buildings of everything they could carry. More Project vehicles sped past them, loaded with bags of grain, crates of apples and pumpkins, barrels of Bliss, _people_. Helicopters were flying towards them over Holland Valley too, one had what looked like a crate of apples attached to it.

She watched in horror as a pickup truck loaded with Bliss collided with a small black sedan, both cars exploding and rolling down an embankment away from the road. The Project’s other vehicles didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down as they drove past, all heading in the same direction hastily.

“Put the radio on,” John barked at the man driving, who followed the order without question.

_”Russia has been attacked. Bombs hit Moscow this morning. No final word on casualties but experts are saying the numbers are in the millions. If there was any hope for peace, it’s gone.”_

Two helicopters flew overhead as she sat in stunned silence in the back seat. _Russia has been attacked._ The Collapse had begun. Truly begun. The truck turned up a familiar steep road - they were heading towards the bunker. John helped her out of the truck when it arrived outside the bunker and she bunched the long skirt of her dress in one hand to start the descent into its depths behind Joseph when she heard people shouting behind her.

“Get back, sinner!” one Project member yelled, shoving a woman back with his rifle.

“Please!” the woman cried. “Please, you have to let us in! We heard the reports, please let us in!”

Joseph turned around and walked towards where she was standing with about half a dozen others that had followed them from Fall’s End, all being kept in place by Project guards pointing their rifles at them. He reached out and cupped her cheek gently, swiping his thumb across her skin to brush away her tears.

“My child,” he said softly. “You would not listen to us when we warned you about the Collapse. You would not pledge your lives to the Lord when we told you he would keep you safe. I’m sorry, but we cannot allow another snake into the Garden.” He turned from her then and walked back up the stairs to the bunker entrance where John and Mercy were standing, watching quietly. He turned back and faced the small group of non-believers, looking down upon them, his face expressionless, devoid of all emotion. “Close the gate.” he commanded, turning and walking into the bunker.

John pulled Mercy into the bunker as she watched the woman crumble to the ground. One of the men with her tried to go after Joseph but was gunned down where he stood. Joseph started to sing softly to himself as he made his way calmly down the stairs, a strange contrast to the panic of those around him, running to and fro, checking on family members, ensuring they brought the right items and supplies with them.

“Can’t we bring them in?” she asked, stopping on the stairs.

John stopped and looked at her. “No,” he said simply. “They wouldn’t listen - they cannot change their minds now.”

“What if something happens to them?” she asked, trying to pull him back up the stairs.

He was stronger and yanked her down to the step above his. “We won’t listen to their crying,” he quoted. “They had their chance to see the light.”

She swallowed hard, thinking of the lyrics to the song. “You’re either in or out, and you’re stuck with what you chose,” she mumbled. “There’s absolutely nothing I can do?”

He shook his head and turned away, continuing his descent down the stairs. She followed in silence, weaving through the miscellaneous furniture on the landing - wardrobes, washing machines, other items that had been delivered and not yet processed, scattered around the big room. They passed people hurrying through the corridors, some frantically trying to find loved ones, others simply trying to move their possessions out of the way to let others through.

“We weren’t prepared!” she heard one woman wail to who a man she assumed was her husband. Mercy paused to watch him embrace the woman, his hand stroking down her back comfortingly.

John nudged her forwards deeper into the bunker. She had no idea where she was now, being in an area she hadn’t seen before. They eventually found their way to a large office that looked like a makeshift recording studio. Brother James was there already, his wife and children standing off to the side. The children looked petrified and clung to their mother like barnacles. Joseph stood in front of the camera as Anna embraced her warmly, pulling her to stand beside her to watch Joseph. The red “on air” light flickered on and Joseph looked into the camera. Mercy felt like she couldn’t breathe - everything had happened so quickly, but everyone around her seemed so damn _calm_.

“My children,” Joseph began, holding his arms out. “The time is upon us. We have been chosen, by God, to be the caretakers of his new garden. God has judged the sinners and found them unworthy to walk the path that we tread. We have all sacrificed, we have all fought, we have all suffered, and now we must march to Eden’s Gate.” He paused, walking toward the camera. “The Collapse has begun. Everything is unfolding according to God’s plan. I am still here with you. When the world is ready to be born anew, we will step into the light. I am your Father, and you are my children. We will be safe, together, in Eden’s Gate.”

He walked away from the camera and fell to his knees, mumbling prayers with his head bowed. She watched as Anna and her children followed suit, then Brother James, and then John, who tugged her to kneel next to him. He bowed his head and was silent, hands clasped in front of him. Outside the office, she could hear people bustling about, moving items, organising others, asking for more information about what triggered the Collapse.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed on the floor while Joseph prayed. He finally stood and walked over to a microphone sitting on a desk at the back of the room. “Please assemble in the main hall, my children,” he said before he reached for his radio.

“Faith, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Father. I’m here,” Faith’s soft voice came through the radio.

“Close your Gate, child,” he said, eyes closed.

She didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as he started walking away from them, heading out of the room and through the bunker. They all followed him into a large common area where hundreds of people were gathered, scores more pouring in. She stood with John behind Joseph as he climbed onto a table to be seen by all. Quiet fell over the room as all eyes turned towards him. “My children,” he started again but was stopped by the sound of a massive explosion above them. The walls around them seemed to shake and the lights flickered. Many of the people in the room screamed and crouched low to the floor. Joseph held his hands up for calm and quiet as John pulled her close to him, his fingers digging almost painfully into her side. She looked up at him but his face gave nothing away as he surveyed the room coolly.

“John, what-” Another explosion sounded overhead and she pressed herself against him, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. “Fuck! John, what’s going on?” she hissed at him.

He bowed his head toward her. “A nuclear strike was launched on the US about half an hour ago,” he replied simply.

“Jesus fucki-”

“ _Shut up_ ,” he whispered fiercely, glancing at Joseph.

Joseph didn’t appear to have heard them, as he was addressing the room again. “The Collapse is upon us,” he was saying. “We knew this was coming, we have prepared, and we have prepared well.”

“Did you know this was happening today?” she asked John quietly.

“No."

He paused as the rumble of a third explosion, sounding further away but just as terrifying as the first two, rippled through the bunker, like thunder. People glanced around nervously, some could be heard sobbing, others whispering words of comfort. The rumbling died down, and Brother James took the opportunity to clear his throat and started to sing. Mercy looked at him, his arms around his wife and children and he nodded at her, encouraging her to sing with him.

“Oh Lord, the Great Collapse, won’t be our end,” he sang, his voice getting louder and stronger. “When the world falls into the flames, we will rise again.”

She tightened her grip around John’s waist and joined in, thinking back on singing the same song as she raced a wounded John back to Joseph’s compound. “Let the wars begin, we’ll keep our pistols near. Our neighbours frail and thin, as they disappear…”

Joseph’s face split into a wide grin as he joined in with John. “Let the chaos come, let our houses freeze. The lights will all go out, but we’ll finally see…”

It didn't take long for almost everyone in the bunker to join in, singing together, holding each other close as they raised their voices high to drown out the sound of the world ending above them.

“Oh Lord the Great Collapse, won’t be our end. When the world falls into the flames, we will rise again, we will rise again…”

When the song ended, Joseph resumed his speech, speaking of how their strength, courage and faith would get them through the Collapse, see them eventually walk into the Garden, new and pure, filled with God’s love. Mercy turned to face John and wrapped her other arm around his waist as he pressed his lips to her forehead. This was it. This was the end. Or was it the beginning? The beginning of a whole new life, a new society, a new _family_. She closed her eyes as John pulled her in a little closer, Joseph's words echoing around her, and smiled to herself as she listened to him preaching to the converted.


	26. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincerest apologies for the delay, I debated so much with this chapter and ended up scrapping it entirely and re-writing it.  
> Again I say thank you to all those that left kudos and comments on this piece, I appreciate it more than you know. <3

John Seed lay awake, staring into the darkness towards the ceiling above with one hand on his chest and the other out to his side, completely numb. It had fallen asleep and as much as he wanted to move it, it was being used as a pillow by his wife, and he didn’t want to wake her up. They had retreated to the bunkers that made up Eden’s Gate nearly seven years ago with Joseph and his flock, which meant the day for them to resurface was fast approaching, and he was dreading it. It felt like so much had happened in that time, yet no one moved, all trapped in time and place by the concrete walls and tunnels that made up Eden’s Gate. The more time wore on, the more worried he became, feeling that as a nearly forty-year-old man, he was a poor candidate for guiding hundreds of people back into the world to rebuild and recolonize.

Everyone had become used to life underground and after the initial confusion when they first arrived - during which it was up to himself, his brother, his sister and his wife to maintain order and give people new purpose - it had become easy and almost pleasant. Some still lamented the lack of sunlight and fresh air, but no one could deny the relief they felt at having been saved from the attack that surely wiped out almost everything in Hope County. Not everyone was as lucky - there were many members of their flock, particularly in Faith’s region, that were unable to make it to the Gates in time and surely perished when the bombs fell. A mass funeral was held to honor and remember those that they lost, and as John lay there digging up memories of the past, his mind wandered to his fallen brother Jacob. He missed Jacob sometimes and often thought back to times Jacob had protected and comforted young John after he had been beaten by their father before they were separated.

_The old leather belt connected with John's back again and he cried out hoarsely. Tears and mucus dribbled down his chin and his throat was raw from screaming. Finally he heard the sound of the heavy buckle as it clattered to the floor and his father stumbled back against the wall._

_“Get outta my sight.” Old Man Seed said, his voice low and rough._

_John fled from the filthy kitchen to the small bedroom he shared with his brothers. They were both in the room already, and Joseph had picked him up a soon as he opened the door, cradling John to his chest as he hiccupped through his tears. Jacob took one look at John's back and stormed out of the room, his eyes ablaze._

_“He's five you fucking monster!” Jacob was shouting from down the hall._

_John pressed his face into the crook of Joseph's neck as he heard something smash in the other room. “Don't you speak to me like that, boy!” their father yelled back._

_The argument continued for a few minutes before Jacob came back with a bloodied lip. He pushed their dresser in front of the door and sat down heavily on his bed. John disentangled himself from Joseph's grip and climbed up into Jacob's lap, throwing his arms around his older brother's neck. Jacob held him, careful not to touch the welts on his back, and whispered soft words of comfort in the dark room._

John remembered waking up the next morning sandwiched between his siblings. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply through his nose, pushing the memories away. Jacob was dead, and the young man that had been John’s childhood protector had died long before his heart stopped and he bled out onto the ground.

Mercy turned over to face him, her head moving to his shoulder. He carefully moved his arm, changing its position so feeling slowly come back to his limb, sharp pinpricks of pain making his skin tingle. The woman had gone from a source of curiosity, to a pain in his ass, to a hostage he could play with, to making him genuinely happy and now somehow he was married to her. It was difficult to believe that he could be deserving of any sort of happiness after the life he’d had until she came along, especially if he considered the way he had once treated her. But she took his pain, his passion and his suffering, absorbed it, somehow turning his chaos into calm. He thought about all of the times he’d marked her, scarred her, used her body to release his rage, to make him feel something other than the bottomless pit of darkness in his soul; but she stayed and _helped_ , she changed him, made him better, healed some of the sickness that he had carried with him since he was a child.

The corner of John’s mouth curled up as he thought about the day he’d married her after Joseph made the suggestion, dressing it up in concern about them living in sin. John saw through his brother, he’d noticed the way Joseph had stared longingly at the tattoo of his wife on his forearm. He was clearly missing her, and was pushing that onto John and Mercy. But John had complied all the same, inking a simple black line onto his ring finger and hers in place of jewellery after a simple ceremony in the chapel in John's Gate. They’d only been underground for about eight months by that point, and when he’d told her what Joseph had asked of them the day before the ceremony, he thought she was going to refuse.

_John watched Mercy walk through the door to their quarters, wordlessly strip down to nothing but her underwear and a t-shirt, and flop down onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. He’d heard she’d had a confrontation with a young soldier earlier in the day that ended with her knocking the kid out. The young man believed women had no place in their ranks and refused to accept training from her. What surprised him most of all though, was that she’d dragged him down to the cells below and locked him up. For all John knew, he was still there, but the young soldier was the last of his concerns._

_He approached the bed and sat beside her, putting his hands on his knees. “Joseph wants us to get married,” he said bluntly._

_Her fingers parted and she looked at him from between them. “You’re fucking with me. Tell me you’re joking.” she replied, her voice muffled by her palms._

_“I’m not joking. He says we’re “living in sin”, and must pledge ourselves to one another before God.”_

_She pulled herself up to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him, her feet not quite touching the floor. “Is that what you want?” she asked, cocking her head to the side._

_He paused. Their entire relationship to that point had been a series of struggles, which had certainly made things interesting. They were constantly fighting, whether it be with one another, with the Resistance, with his family. The last few months had been the longest period of calm they’d had together in nearly two years, and it gave him a taste of what a proper domestic relationship could be like (having never had one before). She had become his anchor, and he couldn't imagine being without her._

_Turning to face her, he met her gaze steadily. “Yes. Do you?”_

_She grimaced and pressed her fist into his shoulder playfully. “Come on, you can do better than that. Ask me properly.”_

_Rolling his eyes, he slid off the bed to kneel before her and grasped her hands in his. “Deputy,” he drawled, pressing his chest to her knees. “Will you marry me?”_

_Mercy bit her lip, trying to stop the smirk that was creeping across her face before sighing dramatically. “I guess so.”_

_“That’s it?”_

_“Alright, fine… yes. Yes.” She leaned towards him and pressed her lips to his._

It was true she had changed him, but even after the bombs fell, there was still sometimes a need to be John the Baptist, to listen to confessions, to etch the sins of the Project’s followers into their flesh and help them atone. Joseph had also put him in charge of more or less everything that needed to be managed, including maintenance of the bunkers and inventory of their supplies. In the sanctuary of his quarters, however, there was no need to be that chameleon, changing his face depending on who he spoke to. He could truly be himself, he could relax - except for tonight, when the worries about how the hell they were supposed to rebuild were plaguing his mind. 

Luckily, he had a fair idea of what to expect once they opened the bunker doors. Mercy had thought to contact her friend Jess Black not long after the bombs fell, and was relieved to find she had survived in the Wolf’s Den with a handful of others. Jess and the surviving members of the Whitetail Militia had decided to leave their bunker after five years, and still reported back to them once a week with updates on what they’d found outside the Den - which was a whole lot of destruction and not much else. The terrain around their bunker had been so badly damaged during the attack, there was no stable land on which to build anything new, so they were still confined to living in the bunker, using the days to scavenge what they could from the wilderness around them. The Whitetail Militia was also in contact with a handful of people that had survived in other bunkers, but those people refused contact from Eden’s Gate, usually ignoring their efforts or simply responding with “fuck off”. To John, they were just something else to worry about, another potential threat to the Project’s cause.

“Why are you awake?” Mercy asked tiredly, placing one hand on his chest and pressing down to push herself up. Leaning over him, she turned on the lamp beside the bed, blinding them both.

***

Mercy could always tell when John wasn’t asleep by the way he breathed. When he was awake, everything about him was carefully controlled and constructed, right down to his breathing. She knew this was related to the abuse he’d experienced at the hands of his adoptive parents, he’d told her as much, but when he was asleep that all melted away, leaving him relaxed and free. It was his arm moving behind her that woke her, and she realised she must have been sleeping on it. His chest beneath her cheek shook as he laughed quietly to himself, and she used the moment to let him know she was awake too.

“Why are you awake?” she asked, struggling to sit up and turn on the lamp. The light assaulted her eyes and she dropped her face to his chest to hide from the sudden brightness. “I regret that.”

He reached over and turned it off, his other hand covering his eyes. “That was cruel.”

“Sorry.”

“I was thinking about the day I asked you to marry me,” he replied thoughtfully, hand stroking down her back.

“‘Asked’ is an interesting choice of word,” she said, grinning to herself.

“Technically, I asked.”

She huffed out a short laugh. “Eventually. Why were you thinking about that?”

She felt his chest heave as he shrugged. “I was thinking about what to expect when we open the Gates in a month, and my mind wandered.”

Shifting her upper body, Mercy pressed her chest to his, reaching out in the dark to cup his cheek with one hand. “I keep telling you not to worry about what will happen when we open the doors. Jess and Eli say things are fine, you’ve spoken to them - I’m sure it’ll be hard to clear the debris, but Holland Valley was fairly obstruction-free anyway compared to the mountains. We’re organised and we have a strong community of people ready to help.”

John leaned his cheek into her palm. “We have to prepare for every possible scenario, you know that.”

“I do. But the time to think about that isn’t in the middle of the night. Let that be Tomorrow John’s problem.” They’d had this conversation so many times over the last year she had lost count. John was constantly planning and worrying about what was to come, while Joseph was a ball of quiet excitement, his eyes lit up and sparkling with anticipation of the next step of their journey.

“It already is,” he muttered darkly. “We have a month, Mercy. One month. Do you feel prepared?”

She _was_ prepared. Once the dust had settled after they entered Eden’s Gate, she had insisted on assuming responsibility for Jacob’s Armory. Her primary motive was the guilt she still felt over his death, but she needed to help - people in the Project looked to her for guidance now, as they did with Joseph and John, and so she stepped in to do what Jacob could not. Over the past year, Mercy had worked with mechanics and engineers to check the few vehicles Jacob had locked away in his Gate to ensure they were still operational, as well as checking the thousands of guns herself to ensure they were ready to be distributed to members when they resurfaced. Yes, she was ready.

“You _know_ I’m ready. I handed you my report a month ago,” she replied, turning to lay back beside him. “Do I need to distract you?” she asked cheekily, reaching out to rest one hand on his thigh. He didn’t respond, so she slowly slid her hand up to his hip and then in towards the centre of his body. Her fingers slipped through the fine hair she found there and then travelled down until she found her target, gently working her fingers around him until he groaned in frustration and pinned her beneath him. Just because she was prepared didn’t mean she didn’t share his worries, and she found she could use sex to distract herself as well as him, using it as a small escape from the ever-growing demands Joseph and the Project asked of them every day. It did the trick though and he spilled himself into her before collapsing and falling asleep quickly, stretched out by her side.

Now restless herself, Mercy quietly dressed and slipped barefoot out into the hall. She wandered aimlessly, arms crossed over her stomach as she meandered down the corridor. There was no one around and the halls were eerily quiet, leaving her with nothing but her thoughts. The silence was interrupted by the sound of quick, heavy footsteps behind her.

“Mercy!” Brother James called out.

Turning around, she watched him running down the hall towards her, carrying his daughter, Eloise. Eloise was eleven and looked exactly like her father. The young girl was clearly in ill-health, pale and weak, taking shallow, shaky breaths.

“What's wrong?” Mercy asked as he came to stand in front of her.

“I don't know, she's been vomiting and feverish. Please, can you help me get her to the clinic?”

Mercy took the young girl's ankles and helped James get her upstairs to the doctor's clinic. The doctor took her through to the next room to be examined after questioning James, who looked worried and shaken. Mercy sat in the small waiting room, watching James pace nervously in front of the door.

“She's going to be okay, James,” Mercy said kindly. “She probably ate something that didn't agree with her.”

James sat down heavily next to her and put his head in his hands. “I know it's probably nothing, but what if it's not?” She didn't have anything to say to that, so remained silent. They didn't have a particularly sophisticated medical setup - John was able to organise a lot, but he couldn't prepare for everything. “I can't lose another child,” James said quietly.

“Another?”

He launched into a story of how he and Anna had a child out of wedlock that was stillborn. As Mercy sat there listening to his story, she thought about a conversation she'd had with John years before, not long after they'd gone underground. She asked him for contraceptives as her implant would run out that year, and he surprised her when he said he'd had a vasectomy at the age of twenty-one. Despite never being able to picture herself with children, she couldn't imagine completely stopping herself from having them.

_”What if you change your mind?” she asked him incredulously._

_He laughed at her coldly. “I started this life with an abusive alcoholic for a father and a mother who was there only in body. Then from there, we were adopted out to a couple who used us as free labour, until Jacob burnt their farm to the ground. You know what I experienced after that, I told you about the Duncan’s. As soon as I got away from them and had enough money for the surgery, I got it. I don’t want to burden another person with the pain I endured growing up, especially a child. No child deserves the experiences my brothers and I went through. Besides,” he shrugged. “I was addicted to sex and cocaine by that point anyway, didn’t want any nasty surprises. It was just easier.”_

His logic was sound, and Mercy couldn't blame him for his decision. Her own parents had tried to push her into marrying at eighteen, setting her up with a boy from their church she barely knew. She had refused, wanting more from life than raising children and so they kicked her out, cutting all ties with her. Sometimes she wondered where they were, if they'd survived the Collapse, how they were coping if they did. When she told John about them before the Collapse, he'd asked if she wanted to contact her parents again, but she'd said no. What could she possibly say to them now? _”Hi mom and dad, I know you haven’t heard from me in over ten years, sorry. What have I been up to? Well let’s see… I became a cop, took down a mobster and then moved to the other side of the country to take down a cult but joined them instead. What about you guys?”_ No, she simply couldn’t face them, and didn’t want to. She had a new family now, including the worried man sitting beside her, his wife, their children. She was closer to these people than she’d ever been with her parents.

Mercy stayed with James until Anna and their son Daniel arrived. Eloise had been put on an IV to rehydrate her body, but still couldn't keep food down. Without the proper means to treat her, all the doctor could do was to keep an eye on her, predicting it to be an allergic reaction, but couldn't say to what.

“Thank you for staying,” James said quietly, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“You call if you need anything, you know where I am,” Mercy replied, returning his embrace.

She left the room and wandered back downstairs. People were starting to wake up and get ready for their day, all smiling pleasantly at her as they said good morning. Everyone seemed to be filled with excited anticipation as their days of being locked underground drew to an end. The bunker would still be used heavily to house them until they had started to build new dwellings and create new farms, but at least they would have the freedom to go outside, which is what a lot of people truly craved.

Mercy's primary goal was to reunite with the people of the Wolf’s Den. She knew Jess and Eli had been trying to find a way to build some sort of footbridge over the river as the existing bridge had collapsed. They had so far been unsuccessful, so Mercy hoped Eden's Gate would have the means to rebuild it. She'd also approached Joseph with a suggestion of opening Jacob's Armory to the Whitetails to allow them to share their resources and information. Joseph wasn't as receptive to the idea as she would have liked, claiming as non-believers they had lost their right to enter the sanctuary of Eden's Gate. The Project had made the offer the night Jacob and Pratt died, and the Whitetails had refused, so they were on their own. She vowed to find a way to form that alliance though, once the Gates were open again, knowing the Whitetails were receptive to the idea.

Sighing, she pushed the door to her quarters open and slipped into the room. She pulled off her dress and crawled back into bed beside John, placed her hand on his chest and closed her eyes, relaxing into the cocoon of warmth under the blanket. One more month. Just one more month and she would be able to feel the sunlight on her skin again, the wind through her hair and the cool earth beneath her feet. John spoke to her of his desire to rebuild on the site the Ranch had sat. He'd mentioned building a new place for them, and a home for James and his family on the same grounds, and Joseph too. Faith, of course, didn't have to go anywhere - she would stay in her Gate, venturing out into Henbane River as she was needed.

There were thousands of unanswered questions about what to expect from the new world above them. Had anyone else in Holland Valley survived? Would they be friendly or hostile? What wildlife would they encounter, and would those animals be safe to eat? What if they were unable to grow crops? Yes, Mercy worried about what awaited them outside the bunker doors. But she knew that whatever happened, she had the protection and support of her family - the family of Eden's Gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the last we'll hear from John and Mercy, I have some side-drabbles in the works, stuff that didn't make the main story/fluff. I'll be refining those and posting them soon :)


End file.
